


Family

by Dazzlious



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Azkaban, Children of Characters, Dating, F/M, Family Conflict, Forgiveness, Implied/Referenced Torture, Mental Health Issues, Non-Consensual Bondage, Relapse, Romance, Self-Destruction, Self-Harm, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Unplanned Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-12
Updated: 2017-12-09
Packaged: 2018-12-14 14:47:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 18
Words: 103,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11785374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dazzlious/pseuds/Dazzlious
Summary: ‘Don’t worry, my sweet, I’ll look after you.’ These words should have been a comfort to Hermione, grieving after the murder of her parents by Death Eaters. Instead, they signalled the start of a terror far worse.





	1. PART ONE - CHAPTER ONE

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from J K Rowling's fantastic books or films, I'm just borrowing and playing with them for a little while and get no monetary reward for doing so. Original characters belong to me and bear no relation to anyone living or dead.
> 
> A/N: This obviously completely AU story takes place from the holiday before the beginning of the seventh year onwards. It includes a chapter I once posted on FF.net and Lumos under the title ‘The Children’ (now removed). It was a snippet of a much larger idea for a story that I hadn’t yet written and wasn’t sure if I ever would. I have changed the chapter considerably, but it now forms part of this story; this is just a warning in case you read the original and get a sense of deja vu. 
> 
> WARNING: This story involves non-consensual behaviour and the consequences of such acts including self-harm, suicidal behaviour and alcoholism. Please do not read if this is likely to be a trigger or if you find such descriptions disturbing. Dx

‘Don’t worry, my sweet, I’ll look after you.’

Hermione didn’t know whose voice that was and she couldn’t bring herself to open her eyes to find out. She was still completely numb, and although she knew everyone would be disappointed in her she couldn’t help but wish that she was dead — just as her parents were now dead.

The reminder of what had happened to her parents was enough to have her sobbing again, tears rolling down her cheeks as she remembered that she had to face the rest of her life alone. What made it so much more painful was that despite all the terror and mayhem that Voldemort and his Death Eaters were wreaking, and even after the sadness surrounding the death of Albus Dumbledore, everything had seemed to be going fairly well for Hermione and her friends.

She had returned to her parents’ home after the Headmaster’s funeral, ready to make her final preparations for the future, which included plans to hide her mum and dad far away from the trouble that was surely coming, in Australia of all places. Hermione knew they had always harboured a desire to visit the country and she felt that giving them this little piece of happiness would make up for the guilt she felt at erasing their memories so they wouldn’t remember they had a daughter.

If she survived the coming war she would undo the spell and they could then come home or not, as they wished, but if she died during the upcoming fight against Voldemort, as she strongly suspected she would, then they could live out the rest of their lives without any pain.

Hermione had already begun sorting through six years of magical detritus trying to decide what she needed to take with her when she eventually joined her best friends Ron and Harry at the Burrow. From there, the three of them would undertake a journey following instructions from the late Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Albus Dumbledore, to find Voldemort’s remaining Horcruxes — those pieces of his soul that he had hidden away so he couldn’t be permanently killed.

These soul-catchers had to be destroyed before Harry had any possible hope of permanently defeating the Dark wizard and bringing an end to his current reign of terror, which had only just begun to have any real effect on the populace at large. Although her friend thought he was going to do this on his own, Hermione and Ron were just as determined to keep him company, regardless of his likely objections.

Hermione knew there were far more preparations to make at the Weasley family home and considered herself fortunate that she only had to decide which books she needed to take with her and the date of her parents’ transformation. Firstly, a wedding was being held at the Burrow at the beginning of August, between the Weasleys' oldest son, Bill, and his stunningly beautiful French fiancée, Fleur Delacour, which meant an increase in the number of people staying at the already over-full home.

To add to the difficulties, Harry was turning seventeen at the end of July, the magical protection that had been afforded him by his mother’s family, the loathsome Dursleys, would be broken and Voldemort would be able, and would surely try, to track him down and kill him before he had a chance to retaliate. For this reason, it was vital that they get Harry into hiding before his seventeenth birthday and extra protection spells needed to be placed on the Burrow to ensure the Death Eaters couldn’t break through.

Hermione was just waiting for the call from the Order of the Phoenix, who had a plan to get Harry away from his uncle’s house and to the Burrow without getting captured or killed by Voldemort, but that wasn’t happening until as close to Harry’s birthday as they could possibly make it. Until then it was a waiting game, although admittedly an uncomfortably nauseating one.

But then, in the space of a few minutes which had seemed to last a lifetime yet also flashed by in an instant, everything had changed and Hermione was left cast adrift, unable to process what was happening or what would happen in the future. All she knew was that her parents had been killed in an attack by Death Eaters, and instead of being with her friends at the Burrow she was sitting in a cold and dreary office in what she assumed was the Ministry of Magic without any recollection of how she had got there.

Hermione fumbled in her pocket for a tissue, needing to blow her nose as well as wipe away the tears that were still falling. Her hand closed on one that was already used and her fingers automatically sprang away from the sodden paper. She changed hands to search another pocket, finally finding a crumpled but unused tissue, and blew her nose loudly, not caring if anyone could hear her. She had no idea whether the owner of the voice she had heard was still there or if they had left her alone once again, nor did she have any desire to find out.

A few minutes later there was a gentle touch on her shoulder and Hermione finally opened her eyes long enough to look around her. Standing over her was a tall, thin woman she didn't recognise who had long blonde hair and large, round brown glasses. She was trying to wrap a soft red blanket around Hermione’s shoulders as she smiled benignly at her.

‘Are you all right, my dear?’ the woman asked, her voice warm and full of sympathy.

Hermione shook her head miserably, the tears welling up once more.

‘My parents—’

‘Shhh, dear,’ the woman said soothingly, patting her on the shoulder. ‘There’s nothing you can do to change things so there’s no point in distressing yourself any further. I’ve brought you a cup of hot chocolate. It’s nice and sweet so you should drink it. It’ll warm you up and help to calm you as you’re in shock at the moment.’

The woman picked up a mug from the table in front of Hermione and handed it to her. Hermione wrapped her hands around it, cradling it as she blew on the drink before taking a small sip. It was warm and sweet and, surprisingly, made her feel a little better.

‘Where am I?’ she asked, looking around the office.

‘You’re at the Ministry of Magic,’ the woman explained gently. ‘You were brought here after the accident.’

‘It wasn’t an accident. We were attacked by Death Eaters,’ Hermione insisted.

‘We know what happened,’ the woman confirmed. ‘I am sorry about your parents, Hermione, but at least we managed to get you out alive.’

‘Are you from the Order of the Phoenix?’ Hermione asked, still confused about where she was and what was happening. ‘Were you the one who rescued me?’

The woman smiled again. ‘I wasn’t the one who rescued you but I am a member of the Order. My name is Alexa Prewitt. We got word from one of our sources that your family had been targeted, but unfortunately, we got there too late to stop the attack. All we could do was get you out before you were killed.’

Hermione bit back the urge to retort that they should have let her die with her parents. Instead, she asked, ‘Why did you bring me here rather than taking me to the Burrow?’

‘It was too dangerous to take you straight there — we don’t really need the Burrow being attacked by Death Eaters as well, do we? The person who got hold of you made a split-second decision and decided to bring you here. At least you’re safe now. We’re just waiting for Arthur Weasley to come and then he’ll take you home with him. He’s sorting it out now.’ Alexa took Hermione’s now-empty mug from her and gave her another smile. ‘I know things seem really terrible right now, Hermione, but you’ll feel better once we get you settled and you can have a good sleep.’

‘Thank you,’ Hermione replied politely. She didn’t feel grateful because she was still too numb, but there was no reason for her to take out her hurt on this friendly woman who was only trying to help. 

‘I’m sure there’ll be some news soon,’ Alexa said. ‘Do you want me to stay with you?’

Hermione shook her head and pulled the blanket further around her. ‘I’m going to try to sleep.’

‘Good idea,’ Alexa said approvingly. ‘If you need anything I’m only outside. Just give me a shout.’

‘Thank you,’ Hermione said again, and she watched Alexa leave.  

She closed her eyes once more but now she was alone and the hot chocolate had done its work of helping to remove the shock, Hermione was all too easily able to relive the attack, the remembrance of the flashes of kaleidoscope colour that had filled the hallway and lounge exploding in her brain like fireworks.

That was the worst thing, Hermione thought as she reopened her eyes and looked around her bleakly as the tears fell again — that she hadn’t even had a chance to try to save her parents. Her father had died instantly as he opened the front door to the Death Eaters, the black-robed, masked figures stepping carelessly over his lifeless body as they searched out and found her mother in the lounge.

By the time Hermione had realised what was happening and grabbed her wand and rushed downstairs to fight them off, various members of the Order of the Phoenix had arrived and were battling the bad guys, but it was too late — her mother was already dead.

Hermione remembered crying out in horror and despair at the sight of both her parents lying on the floor. She had screamed again when a hex, fortunately, badly aimed, just missed her, causing her to stumble as she moved to avoid it. The next thing she knew she had been grabbed by the elbow and there was the wrenching, twisting feeling of being Apparated, and then she was at the Ministry of Magic.

Her mind replayed the words she had heard her rescuer whisper in that moment just before they Apparated — ‘Don’t worry, my sweet, I’ll look after you’ — and Hermione shivered as she tried to work out whether she could recognise the identity of the owner of the voice, who had left her before she even had time to open her eyes and look around.

Now she was thinking more clearly she was certain her rescuer was a man. As she continued to think about it, she became more certain she recognised the voice, too, even though the person had spoken only in a whisper. But however hard Hermione tried to picture him she was unable to place him or create even a vague visual impression of him. She could only hope he would accompany Mr Weasley, for she was certain it wasn’t he who had spoken, although Hermione knew he would look after her, happily adding her to his already large family just as he had done with Harry.

Was her mysterious saviour a member of the Order of the Phoenix? She assumed he had to be as he had saved her life and was obviously assisting them in their fight against the Death Eaters. Perhaps it was someone she had met only once or twice before and she had picked up on the familiar cadence of his voice. Whoever it was, Hermione hoped she would shortly get to see him again because she really wanted to thank him for saving her, even though part of her still wished she had died with her parents.

Hermione shifted restlessly in the chair, unwrapping then rewrapping the blanket, mainly for something to do as she waited for Mr Weasley to arrive. She didn’t like waiting. It gave her too much time to think about the bad stuff. She just wanted to be at the Burrow with her friends, where Mrs Weasley would no doubt give her a huge, comforting hug and a nice drink of something warming and relaxing and then send her off to bed for a good night’s sleep. She wasn't sure she would be able to sleep with images of the fight flashing through her brain every time she closed her eyes, but at least she would be with friends and know she was safe. Even if she had a nightmare and cried out someone would be there to hold and comfort her and she wouldn’t feel so alone.

She was just debating whether to leave the office and go and find Alexa to talk to when the door opened and a small but disparate group of middle-aged men entered the room. They were deep in conversation and ignored Hermione as they talked. 

A tall, well-dressed man with long blond hair was speaking. ‘. . . I honestly feel it’s my civic duty, Cornelius. I would feel terrible knowing that I could have helped but—’

‘I really don't think that’s the best idea, though, Cornelius,’ the balding redhead called Arthur Weasley said, cutting Lucius Malfoy off before he could say anything further. Lucius looked angry at the interruption and Arthur looked flustered. ‘Hermione knows and is friends with my children and has been to the Burrow before, and Molly and I are happy to look after her.’

Before the third man, the ex-Minister for Magic, Cornelius Fudge, could respond, Lucius took over again, his voice charming and persuasive.

‘It’s extremely noble of Weasley to offer Miss Granger a home with his family, Cornelius, but if you consider it properly it’s not a very sensible solution. Weasley already has trouble feeding the family he has, and another mouth to feed, clothe and take care of would put a serious strain on his already meagre resources. Narcissa and I, on the other hand, are in the perfect position to offer the girl a home. I’m sure I don't need to point out that we can easily afford to keep her; of course, you have visited the Manor several times and know we can provide a good home with a decent standard of living.’

‘You can’t send Hermione to the Malfoys,’ Arthur retorted, sounding horrified. ‘Cornelius, please—’

‘Are you insinuating that Narcissa and I aren’t capable of caring for Miss Granger, Arthur?’ Lucius asked, his voice full of menace.

‘She’s Muggle-born,’ Arthur answered heatedly, ‘and I think we’re all well aware of your family’s views on them, Lucius. What benefit would Hermione gain by going with you? I imagine she’s terrified after what happened this evening and I don’t think sending her somewhere where she’s going to feel uncomfortable and unwelcome is a good way to treat her. She needs to be with people she likes and trusts at this tragic time.’

Lucius raised himself up to his full height, his voice icy as he enquired, ‘What are you accusing me of, Arthur? I hope you’re not trying to infer that I had anything to do with the attack on Miss Granger’s family as that’s completely untrue. The Malfoys have far more to offer than you can ever give her. She’s an intelligent young woman and we can provide a comfortable existence and inclusion in our family, which will give her many advantages in the future. I know I speak for Narcissa when I say we would be delighted to welcome her into our home . . . and I’m sure she will be a credit to her new family.’

Hermione looked on in stunned dismay as Lucius and Arthur argued over custody of her. Her mind worked overtime as she realised with horror that the voice she had heard was Lucius', that he was the person who had Apparated her from her home. She had been rescued by a Death Eater, not a member of the Order, but she had no idea why. And why was Lucius so eager to give her a home? It was completely out of character. She dreaded to think what would happen if Fudge agreed to his insane proposal.

‘Mr Fudge . . .’ Hermione began tentatively. When the man turned to look at her, seeming almost surprised that she was there, she took a deep breath and said, ‘I want to go home with Mr Weasley, please.’

‘See? Hermione wants to be with her friends,’ Arthur said triumphantly. He stared at Fudge, awaiting his response.

‘But it’s patently clear the girl’s in shock,’ Lucius retorted. ‘She can't be expected to make such an important decision like this, not after what she’s just been through. Be sensible about this, Cornelius.’

Fudge stared at each of the men in turn for a few seconds, then sighed.

‘I fully appreciate your desire to make Miss Granger feel comfortable, Arthur. After the ordeal she’s just been through it’s no surprise that she’s upset and wants to be with people she knows well. But as Lucius so eloquently points out, this is not a viable long-term solution and she is too distraught to be capable of making a rational decision on her own at the moment. It would be remiss of me to send her home with you when an excellent opportunity for a permanent home has already been presented. Surely you wouldn't want Miss Granger to forfeit the chance she is being offered, would you?'

‘But why is Lucius so eager to take Hermione in?’ Arthur asked, only just managing to keep his temper under control. ‘He’s never made a secret of his hatred of Muggles and Muggle-borns, so why suddenly start with her? Surely we’re not meant to believe he has any kind feeling towards her. Why would he offer such a position within his family when there has never been anything but enmity between his son and Hermione? How can being stuck with people who detest her be the preferred option? Wealth and a large home don’t equate to a happy life if there is no kindness there, Cornelius. If you send Hermione to live with the Malfoys she will undoubtedly suffer and it will be your fault.’

‘I refute the suggestion that Miss Granger will be unhappy by becoming a member of our family,’ Lucius retorted coldly. ‘I will admit we haven’t always been as inclusive of Muggle-borns as we could have been, but this gives us the perfect opportunity to change that. Isn’t that what you and your friends are always bleating on about, Arthur, Pure-bloods and Muggle-borns living in perfect harmony?

‘It’s also true that there has been some discord between my son and Miss Granger in the past, but that stemmed from Draco’s competitiveness and his disappointment at not being top of the class. I can honestly say that part of my interest in drawing Miss Granger into the family is the hope that her sensible and studious nature might rub off on my son and that the two of them becoming family might draw out a deeper appreciation for each other’s skills and talents, which will hopefully, benefit both of them and calm the waters somewhat.’

Lucius turned back to Fudge. ‘Merlin knows I’ve made mistakes in the past, Cornelius, but then so have many wizards — even Arthur isn’t exactly squeaky-clean, as I’m sure you’ll recall. Should my ill-judged behaviour in the past be the block to something that could be good for everyone in the long run?’

Arthur looked set to retaliate again, but before he could say anything Fudge intervened.

‘I’m afraid I have to agree with Lucius on this, Arthur. This a golden opportunity for Miss Granger. Lucius and Narcissa are in a position to ensure she is more than adequately cared for. Her superior abilities should help her integrate into their family and social circle quickly enough.

‘Of course there is no reason at all why she shouldn’t remain friends with your children and I’m sure that once Miss Granger has settled into her new home and had a chance to recover from her tragic and devastating loss this evening Lucius will be happy to allow her to come and stay with you at the Burrow.’

Lucius nodded graciously but couldn't hide his fierce look of glee at getting the ex-Minister's approval.

‘I can’t believe Rufus would be happy with this decision,’ Arthur replied, shaking his head in consternation. ‘I’m sure he’ll understand the need to keep Hermione with her friends during this difficult time. You know the way things are going, Cornelius. Perhaps we should get him down here and let him decide what to do.’

Fudge looked angrily at Arthur, clearly annoyed at the challenge to his authority.

‘I don’t think the Minister needs to be involved in this minor matter,’ he said, his voice now stiff and dismissive. ‘As you say, Arthur, this is a difficult time. Scrimgeour has far more important things to deal with than the re-homing of a student who will be returning to Hogwarts in a few weeks anyway.

‘I understand your emotional attachment to Miss Granger because of her friendship with your children, but we have to look beyond that to her future, and Lucius and Narcissa are far better placed to provide her with the things she needs in the long term. As Lucius has said, it’s a good opportunity for his family to rid themselves of this ridiculous reputation they have of being anti-Muggle.’

‘Anti-Muggle! The man is a Death Eater, Cornelius,’ Arthur reminded him angrily, ignoring Lucius who reared up equally angrily at his accusation. ‘He was sent to Azkaban for his part in the raid on the Ministry of Magic, surely you remember that? Do you honestly expect me to believe that a Death Eater is going to care for and nurture a Muggle-born?’

Fudge and Lucius exchanged glances before Fudge retorted stiffly, ‘There has never been any proof that Lucius is a Death Eater, Arthur. His arrest and incarceration were a terrible mistake for which the Ministry has since apologised to him and his family most wholeheartedly.’

Arthur and Hermione stared at the ex-Minister for Magic in shock at his words, unable to believe what he was saying.

‘The arrest was an unfortunate incident that occurred because Lucius just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time and the Ministry has accepted that fully,’ Fudge continued, running his finger around his collar as if trying to loosen it under their gimlet gazes. ‘Now, I won’t hear any more arguments on this subject. Miss Granger will go and live with the Malfoys, who will accept her into their home as if she were their daughter. My decision is made and it stands — Scrimgeour would back me up on it if he were here. Now, I think we’re done, aren’t we?’

Arthur glared at Fudge but knew there was nothing else he could say.

‘I’ll take Miss Granger . . . or I should say, Hermione, as she’s going to be a member of the family—’ Lucius grinned mirthlessly— ‘I’ll take her straight home so she can get settled in. She must be quite exhausted after her ordeal, poor thing, and probably wants a bit of quiet time away to recover.’

When Hermione saw both Fudge’s nod of agreement and the defeated expression on Arthur’s face she knew she had no choice but to go with Lucius. There was no point in arguing the decision; Fudge had already dismissed her previous attempt as hysterics, and complaining further would only solidify the thought in his mind and confirm that he was right to do this to her.

It was true that she hadn’t yet recovered from what had happened earlier that evening but she was certain that going to Malfoy Manor wasn’t going to help her. Despite what Lucius had told Fudge she didn’t believe he had any intention of looking after her, although she still hadn’t managed to work out why he was taking her.

She was pulled out of her reverie by the blond man touching her arm.

‘Are you ready to go, Hermione? It’s getting rather late and I’m sure you’re completely exhausted after everything you’ve been through this evening.’

Lucius sounded much gentler than Hermione expected, his voice full of concern, but she was certain it was just for show. It was designed to appease Arthur and convince Fudge he had made the right decision, which left her feeling more vulnerable and scared than ever. Perhaps it would have been better if she had died, after all.

She nodded and stood up, shrugging off the blanket, not looking at Lucius as she did so. Instead, Hermione turned her gaze on Arthur, sharing with him a look of despair that made his face contort with sympathy as he struggled to keep his distress at what was happening to her hidden behind a more confident mask.

‘Mr Weasley, will you please tell the others that I’ll be coming to see you all at the earliest opportunity?’ Hermione said. She turned to glance at Fudge, her look making it clear that she wasn't at all happy with his decision. ‘Mr Fudge, I hope for my sake that everything does go okay and I also hope you hurry up and catch the people who killed my parents.’

Fudge looked a little discomfited for a moment but then he rallied and told her, ‘You’ve got no need to worry. It’s not going to be anything like as bad as you think, Miss Granger. You are going to a lovely home with exceedingly fine people who just want the best for you.’ He gave her a small grin. ‘In a week’s time, I’m sure you’ll wonder what all the fuss was about.’

Hermione looked highly sceptical but she replied, ‘I’m sure you’re right, Mr Fudge, and the quicker I get settled in with Mr and Mrs Malfoy the sooner I can go and join my friends at the Burrow.’

‘That’s the spirit,’ Fudge replied, obviously pleased that Hermione hadn’t continued to argue and not noticing the scowl on Lucius’ face at her words.

Hermione moved out of the blond man’s reach as he tried to take hold of her arm, her voice a little sharp as she insisted, ‘I’m fine to walk on my own, thank you, Mr Malfoy.’

Lucius looked as if he was about to retaliate but obviously thought better of it and hurriedly dropped his arm. He turned to Fudge and held his hand out, a satisfied smirk on his face.

‘Cornelius, I shall be seeing you soon, no doubt.’ The handshake over, he dropped Fudge’s hand and stared at Arthur, his face infinitely stonier now. Condescendingly, he nodded. ‘Arthur, no doubt _our_ paths will cross again soon, too.’

Arthur returned the nod stiffly but didn’t respond to him. Instead, he walked over to Hermione and wrapped his arms around her, giving her the hug he knew she so badly needed.

Quietly he told her, ‘I am so sorry about your parents, Hermione. I know how much pain you must be in at the moment and how upsetting Cornelius’ decision will have been. Hopefully, it won’t be long until you join us at the Burrow. I know Molly is eager to know you’re okay, and Ron and Ginny are awaiting your arrival, too. They’ll be so disappointed that you won’t be joining us immediately. Keep your chin up and don’t worry. Everything will be fine.’

Hermione could feel the tears starting again, and although she hadn’t thought it possible with the numbness that had inhabited her body since her parents’ death she could feel her heart breaking at the idea of being separated from her friends. Even though Fudge had told her she could go to the Burrow eventually, she was pretty certain Lucius wasn’t going to let her.

Malfoy Manor wasn’t going to be her home, it was going to be a prison — assuming they actually bothered to keep her alive. She had no doubt she was in for a rough time, whatever Lucius may earlier have said about looking after her and making her one of the family.

‘Time to go,’ Lucius said, his voice a little less warm this time as he made clear his impatience to leave.

Arthur released Hermione and she joined Lucius, preceding him out of the door and into the main office. Outside, Alexa was sitting at her desk, interestedly watching the group emerge. She frowned as she took in the unhappy expression on both Arthur and Hermione’s faces, and Hermione’s close proximity to Lucius rather than Arthur seemed to confuse her a little.

Hermione glanced at Alexa, noticing her confusion. Wanting someone else to know what was happening, she stopped to talk to her even though she knew Lucius wasn’t very happy about another delay. She suspected she might be punished for her actions later, but at the moment she found it hard to care.

Trying to keep her voice as normal as possible despite feeling the urge to wail and scream, both at the loss of her parents and because of the unfairness of what she was being ordered to do by the Ministry of Magic, she said, ‘Thank you for looking after me, Alexa. Mr Fudge has decided I should go and live with the Malfoys so I won’t be going to the Burrow, unfortunately, but if you need to get hold of me for any reason you can contact me at Malfoy Manor.’

She was gratified to see Alexa’s bewilderment turn quickly to alarm as yet another person grasped exactly what a bad idea placing her with the Malfoys was although she was aware it wouldn’t make any difference to the outcome. Hermione was still going to be imprisoned in Malfoy Manor, but maybe the more people who knew about it the less likely they were to harm or kill her — she could only hope so, anyway.

‘If Miss _Prewitt_ needs to get in contact with you, she can talk to me and I will pass the message on,’ Lucius said, a stiff smile on his face that definitely didn’t reach his eyes.

He pronounced the name Prewitt as if it was a disease, and Hermione suddenly remembered that Mrs Weasley’s maiden name was Prewitt and two of her brothers had been killed by Death Eaters during the first wizarding war. She wondered if they were related to Alexa. Whatever the case, Lucius clearly considered Alexa a blood traitor.

‘Don’t worry, Hermione, I’ll be writing to you regularly just to let you know what’s going on,’ Alexa said with a smile, subtly hinting to Lucius that she had no intention of letting the girl go easily nor was she inclined to be cowed by his haughty manner. ‘We don’t want you getting lonely locked away in that big old house, do we, and it’s easy to lose touch with the real world in a place like that. I’m sure it’s an interesting enough place, to begin with, but once you’ve been there a while it will no doubt lose its attraction.’

‘You make the Manor sound like a prison,’ Lucius rebuked, obviously stung by the barb. ‘In fact, it’s a beautiful and well-appointed house with lots of interesting features and a spectacular garden. I’ve lived there all my life and never got bored with it.’

‘Different things appeal to different people,’ Alexa answered cheerfully. ‘I suspect Hermione would rather be with her friends at the Burrow playing Quidditch and having fun than stuck in some big dark museum of a house, however well-decorated it might be, Lucius. Anyway, it’s always good to have letters — to hear people’s news.’

‘Of course, contact Hermione as much as you wish,’ Lucius replied blandly. ‘But now we really must be going. It’s getting late and Narcissa will want to sort out a room for Hermione so we can settle her in properly.’

‘Bye,’ Hermione said, trying to sound happier than she actually was. The numbness was setting in again and she just wanted it to all be over and be alone so she could cry. She followed Lucius, who had swept past her and was walking with Fudge towards the door to the corridor.

‘Chin up, Hermione, at least the place is comfortable,’ Alexa said as Hermione followed the two men. Arthur stayed with Alexa, the two of them looking anxiously at each other as Hermione gave a wave before finally walking through the door.

‘What’s going on, Arthur?’ Alexa demanded.

Arthur walked over to the door and looked out for a moment to watch the trio walk towards the lift, their stances indicating that Lucius was as elated as Hermione was dejected. He closed the door and turned back to his colleague.

‘I’m not sure, but I’m worried about Hermione,’ he admitted. ‘When I got here Lucius was already talking to Cornelius about taking her. He convinced Cornelius that Hermione would be better off with him and Narcissa because they have so much more money than Molly and me.’ His voice fell as his expression turned sad and he sighed loudly. ‘That idiot gave her to Lucius without any thought about how he and his family would treat her. He completely refused to acknowledge that the Malfoys have ties to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. He even told us that the Ministry officially apologised to Lucius after he was sent to Azkaban because he was wrongly arrested!’

‘What?’ Alexa looked shocked. ‘But he was caught red-handed with the other Death Eaters.’

Arthur snorted with disgust. ‘Yes, but you know Lucius. He can sweet-talk his way out of anything, especially where his toady Cornelius is involved. Somehow he managed to convince the Ministry he was just in the wrong place at the wrong time and that he joined the breakout because he was so desperate to be away from Azkaban, being an innocent man.

‘I know Cornelius thinks he’s doing the right thing in providing Hermione with a long term home where they can afford to buy her nice things, but you know what a blind spot he’s always had about Lucius and his prejudices. I’m afraid Hermione’s in for rather a rough time unless we can get her out of there quickly.

‘It was suggested she could come to stay at the Burrow once she’s properly settled at Malfoy Manor, but I suspect Lucius will veto that once he’s got her home and under his control. I just don’t understand what he hopes to achieve by holding onto her. She has no value for him and he must know that she doesn’t know anything about the Order of the Phoenix. I just hope he’s not planning to finish the job his friends started tonight.’

‘How did he even know she was here?’ Alexa asked.

Arthur shrugged. ‘I’ve no idea. I don’t know whether he was already here with Cornelius when she arrived or whether he was told by one of his Death Eater colleagues that she had been rescued. Whatever the case, he certainly got in quickly. Cornelius had already all but agreed to his request when I arrived to take her back to the Burrow.’

‘Is there anything we can do?’

Arthur shook his head. ‘Not in the short term, I don’t think. I can try to talk to Rufus about it tomorrow, but I honestly think we’re too late. Unless Lucius does something to publicly hurt Hermione we’re just going to have to hope that he lets her come to the Burrow as he told Fudge he would.’

‘Surely Scrimgeour will understand why she needs to be taken away from the Malfoys, won’t he? He’s not one of their toadies like Fudge is,’ Alexa said.

Arthur sighed. ‘Probably, but as Cornelius pointed out during our conversation, the Minister has far more important things to worry about at the moment. Hermione is just a schoolgirl, and not an important one as far as he is concerned. If it was Harry that Lucius had tried to take, Rufus would probably have done something to stop him. But even though Hermione is Harry’s friend she’s not going to be considered worth rescuing, especially with school starting in another few weeks.

‘I think we need to keep in contact with Hermione. If things are going badly for her we might have to consider ways to get her away from Malfoy Manor without the Ministry’s help . . . although I’m not sure that’s going to be easy as it’s Lucius Malfoy we’re dealing with.’


	2. PART ONE - CHAPTER TWO

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Last week I forgot to say thank you to my wonderful beta, Mamacita, so I'm rectifying that this week. Thank you also to everyone who is reading, I hope you are enjoying the story. Dx

Lucius hurried Hermione to the entrance, eager to leave the Ministry of Magic and get her back to Malfoy Manor before anyone else could challenge him. He was irked that she was so clearly unhappy about being consigned to him and his family. After all, they were offering her a life far superior to the one she’d had with her filthy Muggle parents. But Hermione was giving him the silent treatment and he didn’t want to cause a scene in public. Hopefully, once she was back at the Manor she would see reason otherwise, there would be an argument and the girl would be made to see just how lucky she was.

‘We’ll Apparate once we get outside,’ Lucius told her.

He smiled and joked with the guards at the entrance and allowed Hermione to exit in front of him, but as soon as they were outside he took hold of her arm, ignoring the look of disgust she shot him. His anger rose once more. How dare this obnoxious little Mudblood act as if his touch was an abomination! The girl should be honoured that he had deigned to touch her, disgusting as her blood status made her.

Lucius pulled her closer to him, more forcefully than was strictly necessary, then Disapparated, taking Hermione with him. A moment later they appeared in a large oak-panelled hallway with an impressive staircase in front of them, black and white tiles a chequerboard on the floor.

As he released Hermione, Lucius forced himself to calm down. He couldn’t allow her bad attitude to infect his own or he would end up doing something regrettable. She was obviously tired and scared after her recent ordeal and would surely be more grateful to him once she’d had a chance to get settled into her new life and realised what doors he had just opened for her. After all, she was no longer to be considered a filthy little Mudblood. She was a member of the Malfoy family now and would be treated accordingly.

‘Are you ready to drop?’ Lucius asked solemnly. He studied Hermione attentively as she shook her head, still mute. ‘Well, in that case, we’ll wait for Narcissa to allocate you a bedroom. That way you’ll know where you’re sleeping and will be able to get settled in straight away. If I house you, you’ll only have to move as I’m sure to put you in the wrong room.’ He smiled disarmingly as if sharing a secret joke.

Hermione nodded her agreement but still didn’t speak. Lucius frowned for a moment but decided not to say anything about her silence. He indicated a door ahead of them and gestured for Hermione to enter as he followed. She walked through the door and into a large and ornately decorated drawing room.

Narcissa Malfoy was sitting on an extremely old and obviously very expensive sofa. She was reading a book, but as Hermione and Lucius entered the room she closed it and placed it on a small table to her left and stared imperiously at the newcomers.

‘Narcissa, this is Hermione Granger. I can’t remember whether you’ve met her before but she’s in Draco’s year at school.’

The blonde woman’s eyes narrowed menacingly as she stared disparagingly at Hermione but she didn’t speak, obviously waiting for her husband to explain what a Mudblood was doing in their home.

‘Unfortunately, Hermione’s parents were killed in an attack by a group of Death Eaters earlier this evening,’ Lucius continued blandly, giving no hint that he had been one of them. ‘Hermione managed to escape but is now an orphan. Cornelius suggested that we might take her in and look after her — make her one of our family, so to speak — and I was happy to agree on both our behalves.’

Hermione thought Narcissa looked anything but happy at Lucius’ announcement and wondered why he had told her that Fudge had asked him to take her in. That wasn’t true as far as she knew, although it was just possible that the ex-Minister had made the request before they entered the room. Perhaps that was why Mr Weasley had already been arguing with them.

She felt herself cringe as Narcissa looked her up and down, assessing her in a way that made Hermione feel incredibly self-conscious.

‘That was very good of you,’ Narcissa replied eventually, talking as if Hermione wasn’t there. ‘Was there no one else who would take the girl?’

‘Arthur Weasley did offer,’ Lucius said. Hermione noticed his wife had a matching sneer to his own at Arthur’s name. ‘But of course, his home is completely unsuitable with all those children he already has to provide for. We have plenty of room here, and another mouth to feed isn’t exactly going to break the bank.’

‘She’s a Mudblood, isn’t she?’ Narcissa asked coldly.

Hermione felt a dart of hatred leave her and head in the haughty woman’s direction at the comment, but then she remembered she didn’t want to be there anyway. She crossed her fingers and silently wished that Narcissa would refuse to allow her to stay and she would get to join her friends at the Burrow after all.

‘She is, but she’s also an exceptionally accomplished witch and extremely clever. She’s top of all her classes at Hogwarts. She’ll be good company for Draco, and with any luck, she might even inspire him to improve his grades,’ Lucius explained.

Narcissa considered this for a couple of long, uncomfortable minutes while she continued to silently assess Hermione. Eventually, she stood up.

‘Miss Granger, you wait in here. Lucius and I are just going outside to discuss this. We won’t be long.’ She gave Hermione a small, cold smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

Hermione nodded her understanding. Lucius’ behaviour was even more curious now, she thought, as she watched the couple disappear through the door. He had told Fudge that Narcissa would be happy to have her live with them, but from what she had seen so far she was fairly convinced that the opposite was true. Had he just assumed his wife would be happy for a Muggle-born to take up residence in their home or was there some more nefarious reason that he wanted to have control of her?

Fortunately, she didn’t know anything about Harry’s plans apart from the fact that he didn’t intend to go back to Hogwarts, but that didn’t mean Lucius wouldn’t question her about them. She just hoped torture wouldn’t be involved if questioning did take place. With a sudden sinking feeling that made her sigh, Hermione realised that maybe Lucius intended to kill her after all — now she was at Malfoy Manor no one could stop him. Maybe that was what this whole charade had been about.

But now that she had made it through several hours without her parents, Hermione no longer wished she had died with them and she really didn’t want to find herself brought here just to be killed. She had to hope that the fact that others knew of her whereabouts would be enough to stop it from happening, and with any luck Fudge would visit the Manor soon so the Malfoys would have to show they were taking care of her properly.

For a moment she thought about going to the Burrow. It was just vaguely possible that Lucius would allow her to leave once she had settled in and shown willingness to be a part of their family, but she wasn’t going to hold her breath. Hermione still wished she had been allowed to go home with Arthur, but now she was here she was just going to have to make the best of it, even if that meant playing happy families and being nice to Draco. She could do that . . . probably.

She sighed again and waited for Lucius and Narcissa to come back.

 

 

* * *

 

 

‘What the hell did you bring her here for?’ Narcissa hissed. She glared at Lucius her arms crossed in anger.

Lucius stared back coolly as he answered, ‘I told you, Narcissa, Cornelius asked if we would take her in. As the only choices were the Weasleys or us, I didn’t really have much choice but to agree, especially as it would have seemed suspicious if I had refused to help. Anyway, this will give us another tick in the box with the new Minister for Magic. Cornelius was as pleased as punch that I stepped up so quickly and has assured me he’ll put in a good word with Scrimgeour.’

‘And what are we supposed to do with her?’ Narcissa asked. ‘She looks frightful. There’s no way we could possibly cover up what she is with the way she’s dressed. And what in Merlin's name is wrong with her hair? It looks like a tangled bush.’

‘Hermione is supposed to be integrating into our family, Narcissa,’ Lucius told her calmly. ‘You can take her shopping and mould her into something more to your liking. I thought you might like that — a new project that involves shopping.’

‘But why do you want her here?’ Narcissa asked as she carefully studied her husband.

Lucius shrugged. ‘She’s a close friend of Potter’s, and from what I understand she’s the brains of the outfit. He’s not likely to get very far without her planning everything. She might even be a source of valuable information if we can get her to talk. She knows about the Order of the Phoenix and its members and she must know what Potter is planning.’

‘And?’ Narcissa added shrewdly.

‘And?’ Lucius repeated looking confused.

‘Oh, come on, Lucius, you don’t think I don’t know why you brought her here.’ Narcissa’s voice was sharp now.

Lucius regarded his wife blankly. ‘I’ve no idea what you’re talking about, Narcissa.’

Narcissa stared at him for several seconds as she thought, her eyes narrowed, and a malicious smile finally graced her thin lips.

‘All right, she can stay. But she’ll be housed in your wing of the Manor, not mine. I want as little to do with her as possible, although I will take her shopping to make sure she’s properly attired. She can’t possibly keep wearing those awful Muggle clothes if she’s going to stay here for any length of time and her hair obviously needs considerable work to get it under control.’ She thought for a moment then added, ‘Actually, I suppose this could be a good thing. I mean, I won’t need to worry about you finding your way to my door any longer, will I, Lucius? Just make sure Draco doesn’t see or hear anything he shouldn’t.’

‘I don’t think you need to worry about Draco, and I’ve no idea what you’re insinuating, Narcissa. I can assure you I have the purest of intentions with regards to Hermione.’

Narcissa snorted with laughter. ‘Of course you do, Lucius. I don’t suppose you noticed for one minute what an attractive young woman she is . . . and I do mean young.’

‘I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that,’ Lucius retorted coldly.

Narcissa gave him a look of disbelief, but instead of replying she clicked her fingers and summoned a house-elf.

‘Prepare the blue room in the West Wing. Our new arrival will be staying . . . _indefinitely_ ,’ she told it.

Narcissa turned back to Lucius. ‘Did the Mudblood bring anything with her?’

Lucius shook his head. ‘Whoever got her out did so just in time. As I understand it, she was Apparated to the Ministry of Magic just seconds before she would have been killed.’

‘Well, that really was fortunate, wasn’t it?’ Narcissa replied sardonically. Staring intently at her husband she added, ‘I expect the Mudblood will be extremely grateful to whoever it was who saved her life so dramatically.’

She turned on her heel and stalked back to the drawing room without waiting for Lucius.

Hermione was still standing in the middle of the room even though she was completely shattered, unable to decide whether sitting down would be considered impolite. She looked worriedly at Narcissa as she entered; the older woman’s face was still cold and gave nothing away. Lucius followed, looking relaxed, so Hermione assumed he had managed to convince his wife that she should stay.

‘Welcome to our family, Hermione,’ Narcissa said. She tried to smile but wasn’t particularly successful although her voice was slightly less frosty. ‘A house-elf is just getting a room ready for you. I’m sure you must be exhausted after the night you’ve had and could do with a good sleep.’

‘I’m not sure I’ll be able to sleep,’ Hermione admitted quietly. Now she knew there was no chance of escape she thought she might as well be honest. ‘I keep seeing the fighting — the flashes of light from the spells.’ She felt tears spring to her eyes as her voice faltered.

‘Of course, you’ve been through quite an ordeal today,’ Narcissa said, her voice suddenly much warmer. She moved closer to Hermione. ‘Would you like a hot drink before you go to bed? We could give you a potion to help you sleep, too, if you wish it.’

Hermione blinked back the tears. ‘I think I just want to go to bed.’

Narcissa considered for a moment, then took hold of Hermione’s hand and led her to the sofa, indicating she should sit.

‘Lucius, get Hermione a brandy. She obviously needs something to calm her nerves before she goes to bed,’ she ordered. She sat down next to Hermione, still holding her hand as she studied her fixedly.

Lucius made his way to a dresser on the far side of the room and opened a door to reveal an extremely well-stocked drinks cabinet. He selected a cut-glass decanter from a group of several on a silver tray, pulling the stopper from it before choosing three brandy snifters. He poured a decent measure into each, stoppered the decanter and returned it to the tray then picked up the glasses and carried them over to the sofa. He handed Narcissa a glass, then held out the second to Hermione. She looked at it for a moment, then accepted it without a word.

Holding his own glass, Lucius went to sit in an armchair and watched his wife as she talked quietly to Hermione, slowing drawing out of her what she had experienced at the hands of the Death Eaters. He took a sip of his brandy. It was a good one although not his best, obviously. There was no point in wasting that on Hermione as she wouldn’t appreciate it; he had watched her take a sip and grimace before telling Narcissa about the attack on her family. Interestingly, Narcissa seemed to be both concerned and rather more sympathetic than he would have expected considering Hermione’s blood status and the way she had reacted to his suggestion that she stay with them. He was just glad he had managed to get Hermione away in time.

Lucius had found out relatively late that Hermione and her family had been targeted for execution. By the time he had arrived at her house, her parents were already dead and a full-scale battle was taking place between the Death Eaters and the Order of the Phoenix, who had obviously been keeping an eye on Hermione’s family in anticipation of just such an attack. He had entered the Granger house under the guise of his Death Eater robes, located Hermione, and with the girl about to be killed at any moment had removed his robes to ensure he was presentable at the Ministry of Magic, then whisked her away from certain death to safety and into his custody. As he Apparated Hermione away to the Ministry, Lucius had promised her he would look after her, and he meant it.

Despite Narcissa’s earlier digs, the fact that she was slowly warming to Hermione meant that she, too, had realised the potential the girl held. While it was true she was a Mudblood she was also an extremely talented witch, the strongest in years if what he had heard from colleagues was true, and she easily beat Draco in every class they took together. As far as Lucius could see, the benefits of Hermione becoming a Malfoy far outweighed the circumstance of her birth, and it was going to happen whatever his wife and son thought of the matter.

Although Lucius believed strongly in Pure-blood supremacy he also subscribed, as had every previous Malfoy, to the idea of making the family as strong as possible in any way available to them. Hermione becoming a member of the family would definitely increase their strength, and he was sure that once Draco accepted that she was to be treated as his sister, Hermione would then help to increase both his scores and his abilities as she would be honour-bound to help the family in any way she could. This also had the added benefit that she would no longer be able to help Potter with whatever it was he was planning.

Narcissa’s less than subtle suggestion about his true motive for bringing Hermione to the Manor still stung a little, but she was right about the girl being quite attractive. At least if he decided in the future that there was something to be gained by being a little more affectionate towards Hermione he wouldn’t come up against any opposition from his wife.

As Lucius sipped his brandy he realised that as long as he wasn’t blatant in his actions he could get away with anything behind the closed doors of Malfoy Manor.  

 

 

* * *

 

 

Hermione was surprised that after her initial coldness on the night she arrived at Malfoy Manor, Narcissa became far friendlier towards her in the following days. It seemed she had, indeed, accepted that Hermione would become part of their family and she treated her with kindness and even something bordering on respect once she discovered Hermione’s intelligence was every bit as high as Lucius had suggested.

The acceptance was complete once she took Hermione shopping to get some clothes that better fitted her new position. The shopping trip was something of a trial as Narcissa seemed intent on dressing Hermione like some eighteenth-century witch allowing her nothing that would let her move around in the Muggle world without suspicion.

Eventually, after agreeing to some of the more preposterous outfits and with a lot of begging to look like a normal teenager, Hermione was finally allocated some more modern albeit extremely expensive clothing too, although she hadn’t yet been bought anything to do with school. Apparently, that requirement was so extensive it was going to take another dedicated trip to Diagon Alley nearer the end of the school holidays.

Hermione understood, as had been drummed into her almost incessantly by both Narcissa and Lucius since she was accepted into the family, that as a Malfoy she had certain standards she was expected to uphold, and the sumptuous fabrics and eye-catching outfits were part of who they were.

She wasn’t sure she would ever be able to match their attitudes nor was she sure she wanted to, because she wasn’t used to the vast amount of wealth that the Malfoys all took for granted, but it was nice to not have to count her money before buying something and to know that anything magical she was interested in would automatically be found favourable.

The bedroom she had been allocated was a nice one, too, already decorated in her favourite colour even though Narcissa couldn’t possibly have known that at the time she had assigned it to her. It was far larger than her old bedroom, with a comfortable four-poster bed that reminded her of her bed at Hogwarts, and gave her a decent view over the wide expanse of lawn that led down towards the ornamental lake with its impressive fountain.

The shopping trip allowed Hermione to add a few touches of her own to the décor as well as fill the wardrobes. There were books and stationery and even a few knick-knacks that made the bedroom seem less like a guest room and more like home.

Hermione wished she could have brought some of her belongings from her old life to really help her settle in, but she suspected Narcissa would be unhappy about her bringing Muggle-world items into the Manor and Lucius would be disappointed that she wasn’t trying her hardest to fit in and become a Malfoy. 

Having said that, Hermione had no desire to ever return to the house where her parents had died, knowing the pain of being in the place would be unbearable. The Ministry had, somehow, sorted out the attack with the Muggle police, covering up the truth of what had really happened, and Lucius had taken on the task of arranging for all their belongings to be put into storage so Hermione could go through them once she recovered enough to tackle it. She knew he had sorted out the financial side of things, too, putting the house up for sale and paying off the dental staff who had worked for her mum and dad.

Lucius had — and for this, Hermione was extremely grateful — paid for her parents to have a decent but quiet funeral which he and Narcissa had attended with Hermione, supporting her in her grief. She was grateful to her guardians for allowing her to say a final goodbye without argument, and they were solemn and respectful despite her parents having been Muggles.

That was the first time Hermione wondered whether the family weren’t as bad as they had always been painted.   

As she inspected herself in the tall mirror that took up one corner of the room, currently dressed in a stunning pale blue velvet day robe, her hair held in the elaborate coiffure created by Narcissa’s hairdresser, Hermione had to admit that the new clothes and hairstyle did make her look like one of the family. If someone who didn’t know her met her now they would never know she wasn’t a Malfoy except for the colour of her hair.

For a moment her heart sank, upset at the loss of her true identity and remembrance of her parents making her feel tearful again, but she brushed it aside quickly. She had no choice now but to try to fit in. She hoped she was doing a good job, although she still didn’t think Lucius was going to let her go to the Burrow anytime soon regardless of how well she did. Hermione had mentioned it to him a couple of times but his response was always the same — that she needed time to become fully settled into the family and that they were giving her time to grieve, which she could better do on her own rather than surrounded by well-meaning but useless friends.

Lucius was apparently, keen to reiterate his hope that she would assist Draco in increasing his productivity at school, and to that end, he had introduced her to the family library on the morning following her incarceration at the Manor.

It had taken Hermione’s breath away.

The room was a wonder; full to the brim with the most ancient and wonderful-smelling books together with large leather armchairs just perfect for curling up and reading. She had longed to stay there and peruse the shelves at length to see what treasures awaited her, but although Lucius was clearly pleased by her interest he was also eager to show her the rest of the house and its grounds, presumably to convince her that she wasn’t trapped in some old mausoleum as Alexa had hinted. 

Hermione knew from what she had seen of the magnificent house and equally impressive gardens so far that most people would consider her extremely fortunate to have landed such a wealthy family to adopt her, but she still couldn’t help but wish she could be at the Burrow with her friends. Fine clothes and beautiful furnishings didn’t make up for everything she had lost, nor did Narcissa and Lucius take the place of her parents, however much Lucius might desire that to be the case or however friendly they were towards her. But getting to spend time in that amazing library had done a lot to help Hermione settle in.

Not everyone was so happy about Hermione’s installation at Malfoy Manor, though. Draco had been furious when he woke the morning following her arrival to discover that his worst enemy was now living at his home — and worse still, that she was to be treated as a member of the family rather than as the filthy little Mudblood he had always regarded her as.

Draco had been informed in no uncertain terms that Hermione’s blood status was not to be mentioned at any time, especially when there were people outside the family present, and that she was now, for all intents and purposes, his sister. Unsurprisingly, perhaps, he had railed at what he perceived to be a grave injustice.

Hermione had always thought Draco a spoiled and ungrateful brat, but even she was astonished at the tantrum he threw in the aftermath of the discussion at the breakfast table, although Lucius and Narcissa’s failure to punish him for it explained much.

Once he realised that Hermione was not going to be leaving, whatever he threatened or did, Draco decided to simply ignore her, no longer acknowledging her presence at all. Hermione was happy with this as it meant she didn’t have to deal with the extra stress that arguing with the boy would have brought and he wasn’t taunting her about the death of her parents as she had expected, knowing his capacity to hurt whenever he could.

But Lucius was still determined that Hermione would aid Draco in bettering himself and forced them into joint activities that neither of them wanted to do in an attempt to bridge the gap between them.

Hermione sighed. She knew Lucius was just trying to do the best he could even though she still didn’t understand why. But it was hard when Draco was such an unlikeable person and his behaviour was so aggressive. The truth was that because their upbringings had been so different there was little to connect them except the hatred and disdain that had been between them for the previous six years.

She couldn’t ride and had no interest in hunting or any of the other cruel sports Draco seemed to enjoy, and he wasn’t interested in reading or even spending time in the library. Hermione still remembered how terrified she had been the first time she was made to go horseback riding, and it had given Draco the opportunity to take the piss out of her mercilessly.

But she persevered because she had no choice — even Narcissa was a decent rider — and she could now sit on a horse while it was moving without being scared that she would fall off, although she still didn’t like horses much. Hermione supposed riding was like everything else she had to do in this new life: she just had to get used to it.

At least she was being treated as a member of the family, not imprisoned in the cellar or something, and despite his initial hatred Draco was finally showing some small signs of getting used to the way things were now she was part of the family. A couple of times now she had glimpsed a different side to him and realised that with yet more perseverance on her part she might even be able to get along with him in a civil manner although she doubted they would ever be able to reach the state of siblinghood that Lucius seemed to crave for them.

Hermione glanced at her watch. She really needed to get downstairs before someone had to come and find her. Good timekeeping was one of the many things the Malfoys prided themselves on; being tardy would not go down well with her adopted family, especially when they were expecting a guest.

Cornelius Fudge was coming to tea and Lucius was eager to show the ex-Minister for Magic just how well Hermione had slotted into their family. She was happy to let him do this as they had been far kinder and made her feel more welcome than she had ever expected. But she still planned to remind Fudge about his promise that she could go to the Burrow, in hopes that he would then convince Lucius to let her go.

It had been extremely difficult to accumulate anything that might be useful to her once she was back with Harry and Ron and they were off on their Horcrux hunt without drawing attention to what she was doing, but Hermione knew she had to be ready in case she did get the release she so desired and had managed to stash away a few small items in preparation for her departure.

She was aware that Lucius would be extremely angry with her when she went off with her friends rather than back to Hogwarts, and there was a tiny part of her that felt a bit guilty about it considering the kindness she had been shown by him and Narcissa since her parents' death. But helping Harry defeat Voldemort was the most important thing she would ever do in her life, and also she really wanted to see Ron again. Harry, too, but mainly she wanted to see Ron.

Hermione had imagined so many times now her tall, red-haired friend wrapping his arms around her, holding her tightly as he comforted her in her grief over the death of her parents. It had been a comforting dream when she first arrived at Malfoy Manor, but as time passed she began to realise that it was far more than friendship she was feeling for and wanted from Ron.

She fancied him like mad and had done for a long time, and she desperately wanted to be his girlfriend and for him to want her just as much in return. So far those feelings hadn’t emerged on Ron’s side except for on that one occasion at the Yule Ball in their fourth year when she had gone to the Ball with Viktor Krum, with whom she still occasionally kept in touch. This had brought out Ron’s jealousy but it had never gone any further. However, it was possible that her current predicament could be the catalyst that was needed to transition Ron from a concerned friend into the boyfriend that she had for so long hoped he would be. All she needed was to get Lucius' agreement to leave Malfoy Manor.

Hermione had wished that she might be released in time for Bill and Fleur’s wedding, which was only just over a week away now. That was looking extremely doubtful unless Fudge stepped in and reminded Lucius of his promise. She wasn’t holding her breath on that, though, as the ex-Minister for Magic seemed far more easily swayed by Lucius’ opinions than he should have been. Just the merest hint from her guardian that she should remain with them would no doubt be warmly greeted by Fudge.

She couldn’t tell the Malfoys about the wedding, either, knowing they wouldn’t understand her desire to attend. She didn’t want to be the cause of any trouble being visited upon the Weasleys or the Delacours, who were currently staying with them, especially as Harry had to be hiding there by now, too, and needed to remain a secret. Hermione could just imagine Lucius sending the Death Eaters to attack the Burrow and break up the wedding party just to be vindictive if he knew it was taking place, knowing his hatred for Arthur and his family. It was better for everyone if she forgot all about her friends for the time being and tried wholeheartedly to embrace her new family instead.

Ron would have to remain a boyfriend only in her mind until she could find a way to join him and Harry, and that probably wasn’t going to happen until after she returned to Hogwarts. Even then, it was going to be a difficult task to escape, especially if Lucius set Draco to keep watch over her as she half expected him to do. But at least there were ways out of Hogwarts. There was no way out of Malfoy Manor except with an armed guard.  

She brushed down her dress, took a final look in the mirror, then left the room to go and find the rest of the family in readiness for Cornelius Fudge’s visit.


	3. PART ONE - CHAPTER THREE

Hermione was sprawled on her bed writing a letter to Alexa, updating her on what had happened since her last letter a week or so before. She was still upset although not surprised that Fudge had deferred to Lucius again about her going to the Burrow, agreeing with her guardian’s assessment that she needed more time at Malfoy Manor with her new family before she was released back into general society, and the letter writing was her only outlet for her frustration and pain without throwing a tantrum as large as or larger than the ones Draco regularly indulged in.

Despite her efforts to become one of the family and although she wasn’t being kept in chains and rags in the cellar, Hermione really did still sometimes feel like no more than a prisoner and her disappointment was increased because of missing the wedding. She really wished she had at least been able to see Fleur in her wedding dress. Being part-Veela she was bound to have looked stunning and no doubt Bill, somewhat disfigured after his run-in with the werewolf Fenrir Greyback but nonetheless still extremely dashing, had made the perfect groom. Hermione had heard nothing about the wedding from the Malfoys so she assumed it had gone off without a hitch.

In truth, she had no idea of anything that was going on outside of Malfoy Manor as there had been no newspapers in the house for over a week now, at least not where she could see them. They were probably in Lucius’ study as she was sure he was still getting them, but there was no way she was going in there to find out. She suspected she wouldn’t be regarded kindly if she asked for access to news, particularly if it involved her friends.

Hermione wasn’t sure why it was being withheld, although it definitely was; Lucius no longer read the _Daily Prophet_ during breakfast as he always had before. She found this suspicious and couldn’t help but wonder if something major had happened in regard to Harry and Voldemort, something she really needed to know about in case it affected the small amount of planning she had been able to do.

It didn’t help that there were less than two weeks until she was supposed to go back to school and so far there had been no mention of the promised shopping trip for her school equipment and uniform, so she had no idea what was happening there either. This was another good reason for her to write to Alexa. She and the Order would surely know what was going on with Harry and Ron and if there were any issues preventing Hogwarts from re-opening.

Hermione wondered whether there had been a problem finding a suitable replacement for Professor Dumbledore and the start of term was being postponed for a few weeks while they continued their search. Draco hadn’t mentioned anything to her, but then Hermione got the impression that he would be happy not to go back to school at all. He was perfectly content spending time with his friends going hunting and doing all that other outdoor stuff she detested so much.

She looked up at the knock on her door. It opened slowly and Lucius’ head appeared.

‘Can I talk to you, Hermione?’ he asked quietly.

Hermione stared at him for a moment, then shrugged. She put down her quill and replaced the cap on the bottle of ink so it didn’t spill onto the bed linen, then carefully covering the letter so he couldn’t see who she was writing to or what she was saying she sat up properly as he entered the room.

Lucius closed the door behind him and made his way over to the bed. He stared at Hermione and the shrouded letter for a couple of seconds, then sat down and looked at her once again. Although a little discomfited by the move, Hermione didn’t say anything but looked enquiringly back at Lucius, waiting for him to explain why he was there.

‘I wanted to see how you were settling in now you’ve been here for a while,’ he began. ‘Cornelius was pleased with how well you’ve integrated with us.’

‘I’m okay,’ Hermione said warily, not quite sure what response Lucius was expecting from her.

‘I want you to think of me as your father now, Hermione. Narcissa and I are both a little disappointed that you haven’t taken to calling us by familial names yet,’ Lucius told her.

Hermione frowned. She didn’t want Lucius to be her father. He could never replace the one she had lost, and even if he could she wasn’t ready for a replacement yet, what had happened was still too raw. She was just about getting used to him and Narcissa being her guardians, but that was all. Being able to consider them as parents was a long way off, if ever. As for calling them Mother and Father, she really couldn’t bring herself to do it.

‘I know you’re still grieving for the loss of your parents and I understand it’s hard for you at the moment but Narcissa and I are here for you, Hermione. We’re your parents now and I want you to know that we’re going to look after you and that we just want the best for you.’

‘I’m fine,’ Hermione insisted. But now she had been reminded of her parents the pain in her heart had started again and she found herself unexpectedly tearful.

Lucius moved closer, and before Hermione could do anything to move away he wrapped his arms around her, holding her tightly.

‘I know it’s difficult and I know you’re having trouble getting used to being one of us, but it will get easier eventually. You just need to give it time and you need to trust us to know what is best for you.’

Hermione had a strong suspicion that Lucius was talking about his veto of her being allowed to join her friends at the Burrow and knew she should hold her tongue in case she annoyed him. But if he really did want to be her father he would have to deal with her opinions and questions just as her own father would have done.

‘I know you think I need to integrate with your family more,’ she began slightly hesitantly. She tried to pull out of Lucius’ grasp but he didn’t seem particularly keen to let her go. ‘But allowing me to be with my friends would help me to heal far more quickly than leaving me stuck here to wallow on my own.

‘I don’t mean that there’s anything wrong with Malfoy Manor or your family,’ Hermione added hurriedly before Lucius could say anything or get annoyed with her, ‘but we are so different. Trying to be a Malfoy is extremely hard work and to be honest I could do with a break.’  

‘Are you saying you’re not getting the support you need?’ Lucius asked. His face looked sterner as he moved back a little to stare at her.

Hermione shrugged, not entirely sure what to say. How could she explain that she needed to be with her friends, to feel less cloistered and trapped, without annoying him once again?

‘I want to give you everything you need,’ Lucius told her, his voice softer and he wrapped his arms around her again.

Hermione felt him kiss her forehead and her breath caught in sudden panic. This was far too much, far too soon, and it made her feel extremely uncomfortable. She struggled within his grasp, desperate to pull away, but Lucius refused to relax his grip. If anything he was holding her tighter now, his face moving towards hers, his breath hot on her cheek as he crooned in her ear.

‘Let me look after you, Hermione. I can give you so much if you just let me.’

She shook her head, pushing Lucius away from her as she struggled up from the bed, needing to get away as her mind replayed the words he had whispered to her during her rescue. Her heart began to beat faster and light-headedness threatened as the meaning of those words suddenly became clear.

‘No! Please let me go.’ Hermione realised that her voice sounded as scared as she suddenly felt. ‘You said you want to be my father, but you’re not acting like one now. You need to leave.’ Finally, she admitted, ‘You’re scaring me.’

Lucius smiled and Hermione’s blood froze in her veins. A hollow feeling invaded her stomach as he grabbed her and pulled her back down onto the bed, his grip tightening. He pushed Hermione underneath him, not caring that the letter, quill and ink bottle were brushed off the bed and onto the floor as he struggled to hold her down, climbing on top of her as she continued to fight against him.

‘Stop fighting me, Hermione. You can’t win,’ he told her as he held onto her hands, trapping her beneath him.

Lucius leant forward, watching Hermione intently, the smile still on his face although it no longer reached his eyes. She froze, her quickened heartbeat making her breathing loud and thready. Then she closed her eyes, not wanting to see the expression on his face.

‘Open your eyes,’ he commanded, his voice soft and menacing. ‘I want you to look at me. Let me see your pretty eyes, Hermione.’

Still breathing deeply and trying her hardest not to panic, Hermione hurriedly considered her next move. She knew she only had one chance to fight Lucius off and she had to make it count. She dreaded to think what would happen if she failed, and she didn’t dare consider what would happen to her if she managed to escape him — that was in the future and would have to be dealt with when it happened. Whatever her eventual fate, she had to escape now — she had to or everything would be lost.

Slowly she opened her eyes and stared directly at Lucius for a moment. Then, as he smiled at her again, using the full force of her body she pushed him as hard as she could, pulling herself in one direction as she forced him in the other. Taken by surprise at her sudden movement, Lucius released his grip on her and she pulled away as he slid off the bed, crying out in anger and surprise. Hermione, suddenly freed, vaulted from the bed on the other side and stared around her in desperation as she tried to work out how to escape, having gone the wrong way.

She was too high up to consider going out the window. She wasn’t confident enough about climbing to be able to scale the wall even if it was covered with ivy. She couldn’t get to the door either, as Lucius had regained his feet and was blocking it. The only place for her to go was the small en suite bathroom, which wasn’t of much use as it didn’t have a lock, but was better than nothing.

Hermione wished her wand was within reach but it wasn’t. She suspected Lucius’ was, though, so she had to move before he thought to use it on her.

She sprinted for the bathroom but Lucius had already realised where she was going and cut her off. He grabbed her shoulder and pulled her back, ripping out some of her hair in the process. He wrapped his other arm tightly around her neck, catching yet more hair and almost strangling her as he moved backwards and fell onto the bed, pulling her down with him, his strength too much even for her struggling.

As he rolled her over, forcing her beneath him once more, his hand found her face and he slapped her hard. Hermione was sure it wasn't an accident, and the pain was enough to stop her in her tracks for a moment.

‘You’re not acting like a father,’ she managed to say, her terrified voice a rasp as she continued to battle against Lucius, tears in her eyes as she felt her strength waning. ‘Please, stop, Mr Malfoy. You’re hurting me. Let me go.’    

‘I can be so much more to you than just a father, my sweet,’ Lucius whispered. Hermione shook her head frantically at his words, desperately trying once again to push him away. ‘You just need to calm down and let me guide you.’

One of his hands had grabbed both of hers and the other worked its way down her body, pulling at the skirt of the robe she was wearing and drawing it up as he pressed against her. Unable to fight any longer, Hermione cried out, begging him to stop, reminding him over and over that he was supposed to be her father, that what he was doing was wrong.

Her spirit was broken completely when Lucius laughed at her, his whisper in her ear telling her of how much more he could be if she would just stop fighting him. His cruel fingers dug into her skin as he tore at her clothes.

Knowing she had lost, Hermione sobbed as Lucius began to unbutton his own clothes.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Hermione sat there as the hot water cascaded over her, so hot it was almost burning. She scrubbed at her exposed flesh with a flannel, the skin turning red and sore as she rubbed and rubbed. She had no idea how long she had been in there for but she had no intention of getting out. She needed to clean herself, needed to rid her body of the smell and feel of him, and so far nothing she was doing was helping.

The tears were still falling, seemingly unable to stop, as Hermione’s heart broke. She wished once again that she was dead, in the same way she had wished it in the immediate aftermath of the attack on her parents.

Now she knew why Lucius had been so keen to bring her here despite the fact that part of her still couldn’t understand it. Even in the aftermath of this afternoon, when he was standing over her watching her curl herself up into a ball, terrified and hurt, he was still stroking her hair and talking quietly to her, going on about being her father and looking after her as if he hadn’t done anything wrong, as if he hadn’t just ruined her.

Dimly, the sound of the dinner gong filtered through her distressed mind and Hermione finally shut off the water and carefully patted her sore skin dry with a towel before making her way back to her once more perfect bedroom.

She stared around her in disbelief for a moment. There was absolutely no sign that anything untoward had ever taken place in there.

Her bed was perfect, the linens and covers crisp and sparkling and neat as a new pin. Sitting in the middle of the bed was her quill and the ink bottle, both resting on top of her notepad, the one that contained the parchment on which she had been drafting her letter to Alexa.

Hermione frowned. Both the quill and ink bottle had been broken during her struggle with Lucius and Alexa’s letter, now pristine on top of the notepad, had been smudged and ripped beyond repair. There had been a large blue ink stain across the carpet, and footprints from where Lucius had walked in the ink as he dragged her across the floor to the bed. The bed linen had been wrecked by the time he had left her, blood and other fluids seeping through the no-longer-clean white sheets and into the mattress.

Now the room was immaculate. It was as if the last few hours had never happened.

Hermione knew they had, though. She could still feel Lucius’ fingers pinching and probing, touching her in places she had never wanted him to go, and the sting of her scraped skin where she had tried so hard to rid herself of the feel and smell of him. There was that other pain, too, the one deep inside that had caused all the blood and the screaming that he had tried so hard to stifle. That hadn’t gone, however much she wished it would. 

She slowly let out a deep breath, releasing the sudden tension that had built up inside her at the sight of the perfect bedroom. She had the urge to break down, to collapse onto the freshly made bed in the same foetal position she had adopted when Lucius had finished with her and cry herself into a stupor. But she had survived, and as much as she didn’t like it she had no choice but to get dressed and join her new family, including Lucius, and pretend that nothing had happened.    

Moving leadenly, and with shaking hands, Hermione opened the wardrobe. She was glad that her ruined robe wasn’t hanging up in there looking as if had never been worn. Perhaps it was too damaged for the house-elves to repair at such short notice. She perused the rail, trying to choose an appropriate outfit for dinner although she was aware she was running extremely late and would be in trouble for her tardiness. For a moment she considered not attending; she would stay up here and feign illness. But a sharp rap on the door, which Hermione forced herself to answer, showed her a house-elf staring at her pleadingly as it reminded her that she was needed downstairs.

Despite every molecule of her body fighting against it, Hermione knew she had to go and show her face even if she wouldn’t be able to eat anything. She nodded to the worried house-elf and told it to inform the rest of the family that she would be right down, adding her apologies for the delay. Then she turned back to her mirror, her trembling fingers working to close the buttons of her chosen robe. The emerging bruise on her cheek from where Lucius had hit her was still there, yet another forceful reminder — had she needed one — that she hadn’t imagined the events of earlier. 

Hermione grabbed her powder brush and flicked it rapidly over her skin as she had been shown by Narcissa. A few seconds later her face was all one colour, although without blusher she looked somewhat pale. At least the mark was hidden and she could go down to dinner without any awkward questions being asked. She added a slick of lip gloss and a coat of mascara, the very least Narcissa would expect of her then quickly tied her hair up to hide the fact that it was still damp and exploding everywhere. Hurriedly, Hermione made her way out of her bedroom and down the stairs to the main area of the house where her family awaited her in the dining room, unable to eat until she joined them.

The first thing she noticed upon entering the dining room was that Lucius looked supremely relaxed. He was smiling happily, clearly in an extremely good mood, and was happy to let her take her place at the table without too much criticism of her lateness although he did mention it briefly. Hermione felt a ball of hatred well up inside her at his words, both because he was the reason she was late and because he clearly felt no guilt whatsoever at what he had done to her.

Narcissa was less happy but she, too, cut short her rebuke, more concerned about Hermione’s colourless pallor and her unhappy expression. As Hermione took her place, she could feel Draco’s eyes upon her. His face was no happier than hers, and as they began to eat he stared from her to each of his parents, his expression flitting between confusion and annoyance.

Hermione felt sick at having to be in the same room as Lucius. Her skin crawled as her mind conjured unwanted feelings of his fingers all over her body. She dropped her knife and fork and her hands scrubbed at her eyes, trying to stop the tears that threatened to break free; only her heavy breathing stopped her from throwing up as she felt the beginnings of a pounding headache.

Narcissa stopped eating and stared at her. ‘Whatever is the matter, Hermione?’ she asked, her tone slightly warmer than Hermione had expected.

Hermione looked back at her, noticing out of the corner of her eye that Draco had stopped eating, too, and was watching her keenly. Lucius seemed to be the only one who wasn’t having trouble finishing his meal.

‘I’m sorry but I’ve got a really bad headache and it’s making me feel sick. I’m afraid I don’t feel able to eat very much this evening. I wonder if you would excuse me and let me have an early night. Hopefully, I’ll be able to sleep it off.’

Narcissa studied Hermione for a moment, then with a graceful nod of agreement, she clicked her fingers. A house-elf appeared with a pop and waited for her command.

‘Please bring Hermione a pain-relieving potion and a glass of peppermint cordial mixed with water.’

The house-elf disappeared at her words and returned within seconds holding a silver tray bearing a small dark blue bottle and a tall glass filled with clear liquid. He took the items from the tray and placed them on the table next to Hermione before disappearing once more.

‘The potion should relieve your headache. The peppermint will ease the nausea you’re feeling,’ Narcissa said with a smile.

Hermione gave her a grateful if wan smile in return, then pulled the stopper from the bottle and drank the liquid contained within. Her mouth made a small moue of disgust at the bitter taste and she shuddered, then grabbed the glass of peppermint cordial and took a hurried mouthful to get rid of the taste.

‘I apologise for my tardiness this evening and for not feeling at my best. Thank you for allowing me to retire early,’ Hermione said politely as she stood up, still holding the glass.

‘It’s not your fault that you’re not feeling well,’ Narcissa said soothingly. ‘I hope you feel better in the morning. Sleep well, Hermione. Hopefully, the potion will do its job.’

Hermione had to stop herself from running out of the dining room, so eager was she to get away from the Malfoys, especially Lucius, who was regarding her with a faint smirk. She fought down the urge to slap him hard around the face on her way out. She saw Draco watching her again and forced her face to adopt a bland expression rather than the one of hatred she suspected had been showing when she looked at his father. As gracefully as she could manage, she left the room.

‘I do hope Hermione is all right,’ Narcissa said once she had gone. ‘She seemed very—’ she broke off for a moment as if debating what to say ‘—I don’t know, there seemed to be more to her unhappiness than just feeling unwell. She was awfully pale and seemed quite upset.’

Draco stared at his father. Lucius took a sip of his wine, then sighed expressively.

‘She was in rather a state about her parents earlier,’ he confided as if he was sharing a great secret. Narcissa looked sympathetic at his words. ‘I had to spend quite some time comforting her earlier this afternoon. She really was most upset and I had the devil of a time trying to get her to stop crying. I’ve no idea what set it off, but I suspect that was what made her ill. I expect all the crying dehydrated her, causing the headache. I’m sure a good night’s sleep will do her the world of good.’

‘May I get down from the table, too?’ Draco asked, knowing from the atmosphere that had suddenly permeated the room that his parents were wishing he wasn’t there so they could talk more openly. He put his napkin on his plate.

‘If you’re sure you’ve finished,’ Narcissa told him although she wasn’t looking in his direction. She was still staring at her husband. ‘Don’t you want any pudding, Draco?’

Draco shook his head automatically. ‘No, I’m not hungry.’

He stood and looked quizzically at both parents for a couple of seconds then hurried from the room. There was silence for a few seconds more as Lucius and Narcissa appraised each other.

‘Are you quite sure that Hermione was upset _before_ you went to see her, Lucius?’ Narcissa enquired mildly.

Lucius glared at her. ‘Quite sure, Narcissa. She was going on about going to the Burrow again and I had to tell her it wasn’t appropriate at this time. Of course, that got her thinking about her parents and it set her off crying. I did try to calm her down but she really wasn’t in the mood to see sense.’

‘Did you explain to her _why_ she couldn’t go to the Burrow?’ Narcissa asked.

‘No, of course not.’ Lucius’ voice was sharp. He took another mouthful of wine before reaching for the bottle to refill his glass. ‘She was upset enough as it was. Imagine how she would feel if she knew about the attack.’ He took another sip of wine then added, ‘It’s more important than ever that we get her on our side, Narcissa. Potter and his friend have disappeared and we need to find out what she knows. But she’s not going to tell us until she feels she’s truly one of us. That’s why I spent so much time with her this afternoon. I was trying to remind her that she could confide in us, that we are her parents now and we care about her.’

‘And that was all, was it?’ Narcissa asked, her eyes narrowed slightly. ‘You just gave her a big hug and told her she’s one of us.’

‘Why, what else do you think I told her?’ Lucius asked.

Narcissa shrugged. ‘It wasn’t what you _said_ to her that I was wondering about.’

Lucius stared at his wife coldly for a very long minute, calming himself as he decided what to say.

‘Remember how when Hermione first arrived you said you wanted nothing to do with her?’ he finally reminded his wife. ‘Well, I suggest you remember that and take it to heart.’

‘No wonder she was so upset,’ Narcissa retorted, unable to stop herself. ‘Did you hurt her?’

‘This conversation is over,’ Lucius announced, and with that, he stood up, picked up the bottle of wine and his glass, and without saying another word he left the dining room.

Narcissa stared after him and sighed as she carefully folded her napkin, placed it on the table, then stood herself.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Draco watched, unseen, as his father stormed from the dining room. Lucius stopped outside the door just long enough to drain his wine glass, then carrying the bottle from dinner he strode rapidly towards his study. Draco heard his father call for his personal house-elf to demand another bottle of wine and a bottle of cognac, then he slammed the door shut.

The blond boy’s eyebrows rose. His father was suddenly in a monumentally foul mood and he strongly suspected it was because of Hermione, exacerbated by his mother’s questioning after he had left them alone together in the dining room.

Draco was certain there was going to be heavy drinking ahead because his father was feeling guilty about his behaviour towards Hermione earlier that afternoon, which was also the real reason for her sudden attack of illness at dinner. He had seen the flash of hatred on her face as she glanced at his father just before she left the room, but Draco couldn’t really blame her.

He was in an exceedingly difficult position and he wasn’t entirely sure what he should do about it.

Hermione had been foisted on him as a sister after six years as his most hated enemy. At first, he’d had no intention of getting along with her, figuring that despite his parent's insistence that she was now a member of their family she would soon be gone, one way or another. But then they had been forced to spend time together and Draco had discovered that he actually quite liked her. Little by little their relationship had been building, and while he didn’t yet quite think of her in terms of being a sister he was certainly far more protective towards her than he would have been only a couple of months before. 

Which was why he was in this current quandary.

This afternoon Draco had been somewhere he shouldn’t have been and was convinced he had seen something he definitely shouldn’t have seen, and now he couldn’t decide what he should do about it. If he interfered, which he would be doing if he admitted that he knew what was going on, he would probably end up in serious trouble. But now that he liked Hermione and as she was now his sister as his parents kept reminding him, he didn’t feel he could just ignore what had happened, especially when she had no one else to protect her.

It made him angry to realise that his father had brought Hermione to Malfoy Manor purely so he could exploit and abuse her, not at all the impression he had presented to his old friend Cornelius Fudge on his recent visit. Hermione was only just older than Draco and had to be suffering unbelievable pain after the loss of her parents. She certainly didn’t deserve the unwanted attention she was suddenly receiving from his father.

Now Draco couldn’t help but wonder whether his father had been behind the Death Eater attack that had seen Hermione joining their family in the first place. He didn’t want to believe it was true, but in light of what had happened this afternoon, it seemed entirely plausible. Worse still, from the brief conversation he had heard between his parents once they thought they were alone, his mother was aware of both why his father had brought Hermione to them and what he had done to her — and she was prepared to ignore it.

Meanwhile, Hermione was cloistered away in her bedroom in his father’s wing of the house, alone and hurting and no doubt terrified of another visit from him. The only consolation Draco had was that she was at least safe for this evening.

With the amount his father obviously intended to drink it was unlikely he would even be able to get up the stairs without breaking his neck, let alone find his way to Hermione’s room. He would be spending the night in his study and would have a massive hangover in the morning although unfortunately, that would make him equally unpleasant company tomorrow as he had been this evening.

Draco wondered what his mother would say if he confronted her about what he knew. Would she pretend she knew nothing of his father’s reasons for bringing Hermione here? Would she pretend she knew nothing about his abuse of her?

The problem was that he couldn’t say anything to her because he shouldn’t know anything about it. He wasn’t even supposed to have been at home this afternoon, and he definitely wasn’t supposed to be anywhere near Hermione’s bedroom in the west wing without his father’s permission. The stupid thing was that there hadn’t even been a nefarious reason for his being there. He had merely got bored with riding and come to see if Hermione was around and wanted a game of chess. 

As he wandered slowly back towards his own bedroom in the east wing, his mother’s side of the house, Draco thought again about Hermione, remembering her sad face broken only for that brief moment by the hatred she felt for his father. He stopped walking and turned back, heading instead, towards Hermione’s bedroom, not caring that for the second time that day he hadn’t got his father’s permission to enter the west wing.

He might not be able to say anything to his parents but he wasn’t completely useless. Hermione was his sister now and she deserved to feel secure, not spend the night panicking about a visit from his father. Draco could reassure her about that. It was the least he could do considering the rough deal she was getting from the rest of her new family.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The potion had mainly done its job and Hermione’s headache was gone. She no longer felt Lucius’ fingers, although her skin was still sore in places where she had scrubbed too hard with the flannel. She felt numb, unable to do anything but lie in bed staring at the ceiling as she tried to get to sleep. At least she wasn’t crying any longer although she suspected that was only because she had no tears left to shed.

She really wanted to go to sleep, but fear that Lucius would pay her another visit was stopping it from happening. Every time she had just about drifted off she would hear a noise which had her instantly awake. Each time she froze in terror, praying that Lucius hadn’t returned to torture her further. Hermione was sure that both during and in the aftermath of what had happened she had made it pretty clear that she didn’t want him ever touching her again, but she also knew Lucius had enjoyed it and she didn’t think for one minute that her disapproval would stop him.

Now she waited, trying to keep her breathing slow and steady, as a figure crept across the room. Perhaps, if she pretended to be asleep, Lucius would give up and go back to his own bed and she would be safe for tonight at least. Hermione was still sore and the idea of him being inside her again, especially while she was still hurting, was almost enough to make her cry out in despair. But, desperate not to alert him to her wakefulness, she pushed her nails into her palms, digging them deep to subjugate the pain and fear, biting her bottom lip to stop the cry from erupting.

There was the feeling of movement on the mattress as the figure climbed into bed behind her. Before she had a chance to curl into a ball to stop him from touching her he wrapped his arms around her body, his lips brushing her hair as he whispered soothing words in her ear.

Hermione froze, but it wasn’t Lucius. It was Draco.

‘Go away,’ she managed to say, her voice ragged. She unclenched her hands and tried to calm herself, despite the fact that she felt anything but.

‘I’m not doing anything,’ Draco said, his voice soft. He was still holding her, rocking her as he cuddled her.

‘I don’t want you here. Please go, Draco.’

‘I just want to hold you,’ Draco told her. He sounded serious and sad. ‘I know what my father did to you this afternoon, Hermione.’

‘And you want to join in, do you?’ Hermione shot back bitterly, trying not to cry. She did have tears left after all.

Draco’s voice sounded cross now. ‘No, of course not. I’ve no desire to hurt you and I know he did that. I know you feel alone and helpless at the moment and I just want to help you feel better. I want to help you feel safe.’

Hermione snorted, her voice breaking as she retorted, ‘I’m not safe, Draco. I’ll never be safe again. I can’t stop him from—’

‘Shhhh,’ Draco crooned quietly. ‘You’re safe for tonight, at least. He won’t come back . . . not tonight. He knows what he did was wrong so he’s gone to get pissed.’

‘And when he’s drunk—’ Hermione began, sounding suddenly terrified.

‘He won’t come back,’ Draco assured her. ‘He’ll pass out first. He’s not going to touch you again tonight.’

‘You don’t know that,’ Hermione said miserably.

‘I know my father and I know he’s feeling guilty. I saw the look on his face before he disappeared into his study. He’s not coming out, not until the morning.’ He paused for a moment and added with a chuckle, ‘Anyway, I’m here now so if he does make it this far he’s got a bit of a shock coming to him.’

Hermione tried to smile as she considered Draco’s words but she found it hard. Lucius was bad enough when he was sober; she dreaded to think what he would be like drunk. As kind as it was of Draco to try to protect her, she wasn’t sure he would succeed if Lucius really wanted to get to her again. She should send him away for his own good. She didn’t want him getting hurt because of her.

‘You should leave in case he does come back,’ she told him.

Draco squeezed her but didn’t move. ‘He’s not coming back tonight. I’m certain of that, Hermione. Nor am I leaving you alone to fret and worry about it all night. You should go to sleep. You need it otherwise you’ll only feel worse in the morning.’

But although Hermione felt slightly calmer with Draco there she still couldn’t get to sleep.

‘I’m sorry about what he did to you,’ Draco said suddenly. He was clearly having trouble sleeping, too. ‘I wish I could tell you that it won’t happen again . . . but I don’t think I can. I’ve no idea what justification he came up with that allowed him to do that to you in the first place, but I don’t think guilt is going to hold him back for long and at the moment I can’t think of a way to stop him. Unfortunately, you’re living in his area of the house and I can’t see him allowing you to move anytime soon.’

Hermione shuddered.

‘I was a virgin,’ she admitted in a whisper, all the pain and hurt pouring out of her in a flood, the need to get what had happened out of her system suddenly overwhelming.

To his credit, Draco didn’t change his grip or try to turn her around to look at her. Instead, he just kept hugging her, still whispering comfortingly in her ear.

‘I know. I saw the house-elves changing the sheets and cleaning up as I walked past the room and realised what it meant. I’m sorry, Hermione. You should never have been allowed to come here. I don’t know what everyone was thinking when they sent you.’

‘They didn’t have any choice,’ Hermione said glumly. ‘Your father put up a good case and there was nothing anyone could say to oppose it, especially as that idiot, Cornelius Fudge loves him so much. However anti-Muggle he’s been in the past there’s nothing formal against him and his Death Eater activities aren’t common knowledge or believed, so I was given no choice. To the Ministry of Magic it seemed like a good choice on paper — a decent home with a rich family who could care for me. The Weasleys could never provide that.’

‘I just wonder if having you to himself is why he wanted you to come here in the first place,’ Draco said, sounding unhappy. ‘Gods, I really hope not — but if not, then what made him suddenly decide to—’ He broke off, unable to voice the rest of the sentence.

‘Did you see us?’ Hermione asked the question hesitantly, her stomach churning with panic, not sure she wanted to know the answer.

‘No. I saw him leaving your room but didn’t think much of it until I saw the house-elves in there afterwards . . . and I could hear you in the bathroom. I was going to see if you were okay then, but the house-elves were so desperate to get rid of me that I knew something was wrong and, well, to be honest, I put two and two together.

‘I have to admit I didn’t want to believe it, obviously. But then I saw the way you both acted at dinner — the look you gave him when you thought no one was looking and then the guilt on Father’s face as he disappeared into his study — and I knew for sure.’

‘He raped me,’ Hermione said plaintively.

She wanted Draco to be clear that she hadn’t agreed at all to what his father had done to her because she was certain that if it was ever revealed, Lucius would try to pretend she had wanted what had happened between them. Being the sort of person he was he might even go so far as to blame her, saying she had come on to him and he had been unable to resist, and she knew everyone always believed the adult. The child was never right, even when they were.

But Hermione knew that being only a few weeks away from turning eighteen she was well past the age of being considered a child in the wizarding world despite still being at school, which was part of the problem.

‘I know.’

Draco’s voice was consoling as he hugged her tightly again and Hermione understood that he really did believe her and was sympathetic to her plight. She didn’t, for one minute, think it was going to help, though. As Draco had already said, although Lucius might currently be getting drunk because he was feeling guilty about what he had done — and she only had Draco's word for it that another visit wasn’t likely to be on the cards — that small amount of guilt was unlikely to stop the abuse for long. Now he had done it once he would be back, and there was nothing she could say or do to stop him.

Hermione realised she was crying again, big fat teardrops rolling down her cheeks as she shook in Draco’s arms. He continued to cuddle her tightly and whisper words of comfort in her ear. She discovered she was glad he was there, however humiliating her current situation, and she was surprised but pleased that he felt so protective towards her, as if she really was his sister. That was something she had never expected.

‘Thank you,’ she whispered gratefully. Draco kissed her head again and gave her another squeeze.

He was gone when Hermione awoke the following morning.


	4. PART ONE - CHAPTER FOUR

Hermione glanced around her miserably wishing she had managed to get finished and out of her bedroom just a few minutes earlier. If she had she would have been safe downstairs with Draco now, not trapped in here with Lucius.

He was currently trying to be his version of romantic, which she truly detested because it meant him kissing and touching her, although she knew it wouldn’t be long before he lost patience with her lack of interest and just raped her as he always did eventually. It had happened so many times now that she had become almost inured to it, as scary as that thought seemed.

All she could do when he finally got fed up with trying to get her to react was attempt to blot out what was really happening and think instead about Draco, her only ally at Malfoy Manor. As he did every night now, Draco would sneak into her bedroom once everyone was asleep and hold her tight, comforting her as he shared her tears and pain, and the beautiful boy expected nothing in return.

There was nothing he could do to stop his father, they both knew that even though he had once suggested to Hermione that he confront him in hopes that the stark realisation that others knew what he was doing might up his father’s level of guilt from getting pissed every night to actually leaving her alone. However, Hermione was certain this would do nothing but cause more pain for both her and Draco. The fear that he would be sent away from Malfoy Manor and she would be left alone with no defence or solace from Lucius’ attacks made her plead for him not to do anything.

Hermione sometimes thought that if it weren’t for Draco she would probably have tried to harm or even kill herself by now. But her new brother kept her strong, reminding her that there wasn’t long until school started; only another couple of days now until she could get safely to Hogwarts and finally escape Malfoy Manor and Lucius forever — because once she got away nothing on earth would drag her back here again.

She realised with panic that she hadn’t been paying attention to Lucius. That was potentially dangerous if he realised she wasn’t taking notice of him. He didn’t like it when she zoned out. Until he actually raped her he needed her attention fully on him at all times, like some petulant toddler who needed constant praise.

Hermione was lying beneath him on the bed, submitting to his kisses automatically, not wanting to become involved in what Lucius was doing to her. She still wasn’t a willing participant, whatever he liked to think, and she had no intention of joining in as he kept urging her to every time he came to see her. He was clearly in the mood to try to change her mind, though, and it was making her feel sick because that meant she would have to suffer his presence longer.  

For a moment she wished she _could_ place her mind somewhere else, somewhere she wouldn’t care what Lucius did to her, but he wouldn’t allow that. If she became too distracted he got rough with her and Lucius could hurt her without even trying. However awful the thought, she would suffer his mauling of her as she always did because she honestly had no other choice.

Lucius was talking to her again but Hermione didn’t want to listen. Knowing him, he was probably trying to assure her that the things he was doing to her were because he was in love with her, which was something he had been telling her ever since his second unwanted visit to her bedroom. It seemed that his initial rape of her had been enough to trigger this unasked-for emotion at the same time as the guilt, and was a feeling she was apparently expected to reciprocate although she still had no idea how his perception of her could have changed so much, particularly when outwardly it appeared he hadn’t changed his opinion on Muggles or Muggle-borns in any way. Maybe it was this dichotomy that kept him in his study every evening tanked up to the eyeballs with booze.

Hermione didn’t know, but she was pleased as it meant there was at least some respite from his lecherous behaviour, even if it was only because he was too drunk to get up the stairs and he hadn’t yet thought to Apparate to her room. She had once considered that maybe if he tried Apparating while drunk he might seriously splinch himself, which would then free her from his attentions completely — with any luck for even long enough for her to go back to school. But knowing the way her luck was running, Hermione suspected it would probably work perfectly and then Lucius would be Apparating in on her all the time, wherever she was, and she would never have a single moment of safety.

The worst thing about the escalation in Lucius’ affections had been his insistence on her calling him ‘Daddy’ whenever they were alone together, which was beyond creepy considering what he did to her. However hard Hermione tried to point out that her father would never have done anything like the things Lucius was forcing on her, his only response was that he was everything her father had been and more.

Time and again Lucius told her he could offer her that which her own father never could because they were not actually related and she should be grateful that he was providing her with a home and safety as well as the sort of pleasure she would never get elsewhere. Hermione had given up arguing with him. Instead, she suffered in silence and waited for her too-short time with Draco to ease the pain.

The panic grew as she realised that something else was happening in this room today, something different from the way sex with Lucius usually went. She had expected that by now he would have given up trying to make love to her and moved onto the forced penetration he always seemed to enjoy so much, but that wasn’t happening. Instead, Lucius was holding her down, forcing her hands above her head as his tongue brushed over her breasts leaving a wet trail over her nipples, and she had a horrible feeling something bad was about to happen.

She tuned back into what Lucius was saying, realising too late that he wasn’t just trying to convince her of his love for her. What he was saying made her cringe and her stomach clench with fear knowing that what was about to happen wasn’t going to be good for her nor was it likely to be quick.

‘. . . so you’ve given me no choice, my sweet,’ Lucius told her, his voice a little chiding as if she had done something he was having to berate her for.

Hermione had no idea what she had failed to do or done wrong although to be fair, with Lucius it could have been absolutely anything.

‘Perhaps this will give you the boost you need. Maybe you need a little something extra to get you going.’ Lucius’ voice was definitely more salacious now.

Hermione hadn’t had a chance to work out what he was talking about before she found herself gripped by silken ropes that came from out of the bedposts with a flick of Lucius’ wand and wrapped around her wrists and ankles, tightening and pulling her until she was spread-eagled across the bed.

Before she could even cry out in disgust, Lucius cast a second spell and all her remaining clothes were gone, leaving her naked. A wave of shame rushed through Hermione’s entire body, leaving her tearful and wishing desperately that she wasn’t in such a vulnerable position.

Although Lucius had been romantic with her, he had never taken much interest in her body other than what he could do to it with his cock, and with the exception of her breasts he never usually bothered to look at it, focussing only on getting her knickers off. But now she was spread wide, flashing off everything if Lucius wanted to look, and today it seemed he did.

A feeling of absolute terror filled Hermione like iced water trickling through her veins as his hands slid slowly over her naked body, caressing and touching in ways he had never touched her before. Oh god, this was so much worse than she could ever have imagined. But there was one tiny potential glimmer of light which she assumed Lucius hadn’t considered, and it should be enough to end any games he was thinking of subjecting her to.

‘It’s almost time for lunch,’ she stammered, silently reminding Lucius of the house rule that everyone had to be at the table before anyone could start eating. Surely he wouldn’t make Narcissa and Draco sit and wait until he was finished with her, would he?

Lucius gave a small chuckle, his eyes crinkling with glee. He stroked Hermione’s hair back from her face as he looked into her eyes.

‘Are you hungry, my sweet? I’m sure I can provide some protein to keep you going if you need more energy.’

Hermione shook her head, making clear with her disgusted expression that this was not what she meant at all. Still stammering, she said, ‘But we need to go downstairs . . . the rule . . . Draco and Mrs Malfoy—’

‘Don’t worry about them. They’ll soon get fed up with waiting for us and have their lunch. Draco’s not going to starve himself because you’re not with him at the dinner table,’ Lucius told her with a look that convinced Hermione that he knew about her alliance with his son, and she couldn’t stop the shiver that ran through her.

‘But we’re going to Diagon Alley after lunch. We need to get our school equipment,’ Hermione said, trying to keep the quiver out of her voice as she battled the tears that were threatening to spill.

She hadn’t wanted to remind Lucius about the trip as that would trigger the realisation that she would be leaving him to go back to Hogwarts in only a couple of days and she dreaded to think what effect that would have on his behaviour towards her in the short time remaining. At the same time, she had no intention of missing out on only her second opportunity to leave Malfoy Manor since she had been incarcerated here almost six weeks before, and that meant reminding him that now was not a good time for him to decide to play bondage games.

Lucius watched her for a moment then waved his wand and muttered a silencing charm, and Hermione's sense of panic increased. She didn’t want to think about why Lucius needed a silencing charm. He had never previously bothered with one as her bedroom was stuck well away from the main area of the house in his wing, a place Narcissa would never visit even if he gave her permission, which Hermione suspected he never would.

But as scary as the action was it was actually a secondary consideration for Hermione at that moment. All she could think of was the need to escape Malfoy Manor for a few hours and the even greater need to finally get her school books and her new robes, a new Potions kit and all the other school equipment she had left at home on the night she had been taken to the Ministry of Magic. Hermione still hadn’t received an owl bearing the usual letter so she had no idea even what books she would need this year but she assumed one had arrived along with the letter for Draco and Narcissa would know what they needed to buy.

‘Oh yes, Hogwarts. I’d forgotten all about that place,’ Lucius muttered as Hermione stared at him, her face pleading with him to release her.

Hermione was taken by surprise at this comment, wondering how he could have forgotten about the school that she and his son attended and that he and his wife had previously attended, too. It didn’t make sense. But it didn’t look like he was going to release her from the ropes holding her, either, and that meant she still wasn’t going to get to leave the prison that was Malfoy Manor.

As Lucius joined her on the bed, his hands back on her body, Hermione girded herself for what she needed to do, trying to stop the sick feeling in her stomach.

‘Daddy, you know I need to go and get my robes and I haven’t got any equipment for school after having to leave my home so rapidly.’ Hermione did let her voice quiver this time and tears appeared, glistening in her eyes although they were as much from what she was having to say rather than because she was remembering that terrible evening when her parents had died. ‘I know you wanted to . . . .’ her voice died away unable to speak the words. She took a deep breath to steady herself, then continued, ‘Please, Daddy. Let me go and let’s go down to lunch. No one will even need to know we were nearly late.’

Lucius’ laugh when it came was long, loud and completely chilling. The tears Hermione had just about been holding back began to slide down her face as her body shook with sobs that started silently but grew louder as he dashed all her hopes.

‘Don’t worry about not going to Diagon Alley, my sweet. You and I are going to have much more fun staying here.’ He watched her sob for a moment then added as if being consoling, ‘You don’t need to there go anyway. You’re not going back to Hogwarts so you don’t need to do any shopping. You’re going to be staying here at Malfoy Manor . . . with me.’

Hermione stared at him in horror, not believing what she was hearing.

Lucius, seemingly ignoring her, continued, ‘With everything going on out there at the moment it wouldn’t be safe for you to leave me. But don’t worry, Daddy’s going to look after you . . . and keep you safe.’

This last was whispered in her ear as he lay on top of her, his mouth breathing hot air into her ear as her stomach squirmed.

‘Please . . . .’ she moaned quietly, not even sure exactly what she was pleading for but knowing she had to say something, had to fight against this new incarceration Lucius was forcing on her.

Lucius chuckled richly. ‘You don’t really think I’d let you go now after all the trouble I’ve just gone to getting you nicely tied up, do you? We’ve got some new games to play and this afternoon while Narcissa and Draco are away shopping will be the perfect time for them.’ He finally took in Hermione’s upset expression and added, ‘I know you’re probably disappointed about not going back to school, Hermione, but I just can’t let you go. I’m sure you understand that.’

Hermione felt the urge to retort that she didn’t understand, but knew that arguing with Lucius wasn’t going to improve her situation.

‘You belong to me now, Hermione,’ Lucius told her his voice gentle but with the steely undertone of knowing he was completely right in what he was saying, any pretence of being family long gone. ‘You will do what I want, whenever I want it, and you will give me your complete and utter devotion. It’s time to stop playing and get serious. You are part of this family now and you _will_ give me what I need.’

Hermione squealed as his hand stroked between her legs, fingers pushing and probing as she writhed uncomfortably in the bonds that held her tight.

Lucius’ voice held no trace of warmth as he commanded, ‘You can start by telling me where Potter and your friend Weasley have gone.’

 

 

* * *

 

 

‘Eat your lunch, Draco. We need to go to Diagon Alley and get your shopping done,’ Narcissa told her son.

She stared at Draco, who gazed back at her mulishly. So far he hadn’t touched his lunch.

‘Where are Father and Hermione? What’s happened to the rule about us not eating until everyone’s at the table?’ he enquired.

‘We’re making an exception today,’ Narcissa explained, trying to sound lighthearted about it. ‘Your father and Hermione are busy and we need to go shopping, so we haven’t got time to wait for them. Now eat!’

‘Busy doing what?’ Draco asked although he was certain he knew.

There was only ever one thing his father did with Hermione and it made him feel ill that there was nothing he could do to stop him. But until now they had always managed to make it to the meal table, had always abided by the house rules. It worried him that his father was breaking them and, worse still, that his mother was allowing him to do it.

Draco felt the urge to shout at her, to let her know that he knew what was going on, but for some reason that he couldn’t quite pin down he had a nasty feeling that doing so would just make Hermione’s situation worse, and he honestly didn’t want that to happen. Instead, he glared at his mother.

‘Come on, Draco. We haven’t got all day. We’ve got a lot to do this afternoon. You need to eat your lunch.’

‘I’m waiting for Father and Hermione,’ Draco said staunchly. ‘Surely they can’t be too much longer. Hermione needs to come to Diagon Alley, too. She needs to go more than me because she didn’t have anything when she came here. She’ll need a whole new set of equipment as well as school robes — all sorts of things.’

‘Hermione won’t be coming with us,’ Narcissa said quietly. Draco stared at her in surprise. ‘She isn’t returning to Hogwarts so there’s no need for her to come shopping with us. She can stay here with your father.’

‘But why isn’t she going to school?’ Draco looked and sounded completely flummoxed.

Narcissa delicately dabbed her mouth with her napkin, then dropped it onto her now empty plate. ‘A new policy has been implemented at Hogwarts with the change in regime. Mudbloods aren’t allowed to attend—’

‘But both you and Father said that she isn’t a Mudblood anymore,’ Draco protested, cutting his mother off. ‘You both told me she’s a Malfoy now, so she should still be able to go to school. What was the point of bringing her here otherwise?’

Narcissa’s mouth pinched into a thin line but she looked uncomfortable. ‘The truth is that your father doesn’t believe Hermione is ready to go back to school just yet, Draco. She’s still having trouble getting over her parents’ death, understandably, and while she has made a great effort to fit into the family and become one of us there are students at Hogwarts who will remember what her blood status is and may try to cause trouble.

‘Severus is going to have a difficult enough job this year as Headmaster without having to look out for Hermione all the time. Your father thinks it will be easier all round if Hermione rejoins the school after the Christmas holidays, if she’s ready by then, by which time she’ll have had that extra time to acclimatise herself to our way of life and more time for people to forget what she was.’

‘I can look after her at school. I’m her brother now, and I’ll happily stand up to anyone who wants to cause trouble for her,’ Draco insisted.

Narcissa patted his hand and looked at him fondly. ‘That’s a lovely thing to say, Draco, and I’m glad you’ve accepted Hermione so easily, but the truth is that she’s not ready to go back out into society. She’s still grieving — sometimes it overwhelms her—’

‘That’s not grief,’ Draco mumbled before he could stop himself.

Narcissa looked at him sharply. ‘Your father has decided and that’s all there is to it,’ she told him in a tone that brooked no argument. ‘Now eat up your lunch otherwise you’re going to go hungry.’

‘I don’t want anything and I don’t really want to go to Diagon Alley today. I might just go and see how Hermione is.’

‘No!’ Narcissa’s rebuke was like a whip crack. ‘We are going to Diagon Alley and that’s the end of it.’

Draco’s voice was pleading now. ‘Then at least let me check with Hermione to see if she needs anything before we go.’

‘She doesn’t,’ Narcissa said.

‘How do you know? Have you asked her? I know she was really looking forward to going out. She was talking about how good it would be to get away from Malfoy Manor for once, about all the things she wanted to buy when we got to Diagon Alley. She was really looking forward to going to Flourish and Blotts and Scriveners,’ Draco said.

‘She’s changed her mind,’ Narcissa said coldly.

She clicked her fingers and a house-elf appeared. ‘You can take the plates now,’ she told it.

‘But—’

‘No, Draco. No more,’ Narcissa warned.

‘I just can’t believe you’re leaving her here . . . with him,’ Draco said.

‘We need to go,’ Narcissa told him, completely ignoring Draco’s remark. ‘Now come on, we’ve got a lot to buy and not much time to sort it out.’

She stood up, gazing at Draco until, unwillingly, he stood too.

‘The quicker we go the quicker we can get back, and then I’m sure you can go riding or whatever,’ she pointed out.

‘I want to play chess with Hermione,’ Draco said.

Narcissa’s eyes narrowed, then she sighed. ‘I’m sure you’ll be able to when we get back, assuming she’s feeling okay by then.’

‘She won’t, though, will she, not if she’s been locked up with him all day,’ Draco said unhappily.

‘Your father is helping Hermione come to terms with her situation,’ Narcissa explained. ‘He’s helping her to realise that she isn’t all alone in this world, that she has a family . . . who care about her.’

‘Is that what he’s doing?’ Draco said, sounding unconvinced.

‘Enough, now move!’ Narcissa ordered, and she pointed in the direction of the drawing room where the Floo waited for them.

Draco gave a huge sigh as he left the dining room, looking longingly up the stairs for a moment as he made his way across the entrance hall and towards the drawing room. Narcissa pushed him to make him move faster.

‘I’m sorry, Hermione,’ he said under his breath as he left his almost-sister behind.


	5. PART ONE - CHAPTER FIVE

There was an uncomfortable silence in the dining room, just as there had been all afternoon while Draco and Narcissa were in Diagon Alley. The shopping trip had been fractious; the blond boy had sullenly followed his mother from shop to shop, refusing to engage except to voice his desire to return home and see Hermione.

Draco knew he had driven his mother almost to distraction, not helped when he insisted on buying Hermione several gifts, stupid little things that he knew she would appreciate not having been given the opportunity to go shopping for herself.

A couple of times while they were away from the Manor and could possibly talk freely he considered trying to discuss with his mother about what his father was doing to Hermione. Draco was certain she knew and was covering for him although he couldn’t even begin to understand why, but the middle of a bustling street or inside a busy shop wasn’t the place for that sort of discussion. He couldn’t risk anyone else picking up on what was happening to Hermione; that wasn’t fair to her.

It wasn’t as if anyone was going to be able to help her escape otherwise he would have tried to find her friends. Even if Potter and Weasley had disappeared without a trace, as he had heard his father harping on about to his mother after breakfast, she still had plenty of other friends who would be happy to help her given the opportunity. But Draco knew there was no way his father was going to allow anyone friendly to Hermione anywhere near the house.

Now he stared around curiously as a house-elf busily placed a plate of food in front his mother, then moved on to him. His mother was filling a wine glass with a deep red burgundy, concentrating so intently on not spilling any on the snow-white tablecloth that she, fortunately, didn’t notice when the house-elf accidentally tipped Draco’s plate, spilling some of the vegetables and gravy onto the floor.

The blond boy whipped his wand from his pocket and waved it, vanishing the mess before the house-elf had a chance to do more than give a small squeak and look terrified. It stared at him with a thankfulness that bordered on reverence. Embarrassed, Draco made a gesture of dismissal. The house-elf gratefully put the plate in front of him, then departed as rapidly as it could manage.

Draco added pepper to his plate, his face a mask of concern as he looked at the empty places at the table once more and then at his mother. Just as at lunch, she had already started eating, seeming not to care that half the family were missing. He couldn’t help worrying that something bad had happened as this was now two meals Hermione hadn’t attended. Had his father injured her in some way?

‘Where are Father and Hermione? Aren’t they joining us for dinner?’ he asked, his voice sounding louder in the large room than he had intended.

For a moment Draco thought his mother was going to ignore him as she kept eating, deliberately not looking at him. But after a couple of minutes, during which Draco did nothing but stare at her relentlessly, his dinner all but forgotten, Narcissa eventually put down her knife and fork and wiped her mouth with her napkin.

She took a sip of her wine and then looked back at her son, catching his eyes for only a moment before looking away, her fingers finding and playing nervously with the crisp white cotton.

‘I understand that Hermione has been having an extremely difficult day. We have to remember, Draco, that it has only been a few weeks since she lost her parents. However hard we’ve tried to include her in our family it is difficult for her to both get over what happened and get used to us being her family now.

‘Obviously, she’s going to have occasional relapses, which are extremely hard for her to deal with. Under the circumstances, we thought it best that she stay in her room until she feels better. Your father has decided to stay with her so he can comfort her. I’m sure they’ll be down to join us as soon as Hermione feels she’s able to cope with company.’

‘You mean he’s raping her again,’ Draco replied coldly, no longer able to hold his tongue.

Narcissa stared at him in shock, then her expression changed to one of indignation.

‘If your Father and that little slut are having an affair—’

Draco growled angrily. ‘Call it what it is, Mother. He’s not having an affair with Hermione. She doesn’t _want_ him to do it. Father rapes her — you know he does.’

Narcissa shook her head and angrily retorted, ‘You have no idea what you’re talking about, Draco. Your father is a good man. He took that little slut in when he could have just left her to rot with the Weasleys and she repays us by seducing him.’

‘You know that’s not true. Hermione has done nothing wrong,’ Draco insisted, looking and sounding stunned. ‘I really can’t believe you’re letting him get away with what he’s doing to her — because you know what he’s doing.’

Narcissa picked up her knife and fork and began carefully cutting up her meal.

‘I don’t wish to talk about this at the moment, Draco. The dinner table isn’t the place for such discussion,’ she told him coolly.

‘Why isn’t it?’ Draco was belligerent. ‘Don’t you care what he’s doing to her? I thought she was supposed to be family now — a sister to me, you told me, remember? If that’s true, then why are you letting him abuse her like that?’

He stared at the cold expression on his mother’s face and realisation dawned. Sounding disgusted, he added, ‘You’re happy to let him hurt her . . . just as long as he leaves you alone. Gods, that’s really disgusting. Is that why she was brought here in the first place?’

Narcissa slammed her knife and fork down onto her plate, not seeming to notice that she had spilt gravy over the tablecloth. She glared at Draco.

‘You have absolutely no idea what you are talking about,’ she spat icily. ‘If anything is happening between your Father and . . . _Hermione_ , then it’s because she wants it to happen and it’s none of your business. Now, I refuse to discuss this any further.’

‘But I’ve seen him, and I’ve seen what Hermione is like afterwards. She hates it . . . she hates what he does to her. She’s not a willing participant, whatever he’s told you. Please, Mother, you have to help her.’

Narcissa’s mouth pinched into a thin line. ‘There’s nothing I can do . . . even if I wanted to.’

She looked up almost guiltily as Lucius entered the dining room and sat down. He smiled effusively at his family.

‘I’m sorry I’m a bit late. I see you’ve already started.’ He indicated their plates.

A house-elf appeared with his plate and carefully placed it in front of him as Lucius grabbed up the glass of wine Narcissa had just poured for him and took a large mouthful.

‘Where’s Hermione?’ Draco asked accusingly, trying but failing to keep the worry from his voice. All sorts of terrible thoughts were running through his brain at the fact that she hadn’t appeared. He hadn’t seen her at all since breakfast, not even when they got back from Diagon Alley.

Lucius finished the mouthful of wine he had just taken.

‘She’s feeling a bit upset at the moment — having a particularly bad day, I’m afraid. I’m sure she’ll be down momentarily. When I saw her a short while ago she was going to have a bath with some nice bubbles to try to cheer herself up a bit. As the meal rule has gone completely to pot today, I told her not to hurry.’ He looked at Narcissa for a second. ‘Although I did point out that she needed to eat as she missed lunch.’

‘Perhaps I should go and see if she’s okay,’ Draco said, putting his napkin down next to his plate and making as if to stand.

‘No need, here she is,’ Lucius announced as Hermione, looking pale and distressed, slowly entered the dining room.

Draco stared at her worriedly. Hermione gave him a wan smile although he saw it didn’t reach her eyes, which were full of pain. He pulled out the chair next to him.

‘Come and sit next to me, Hermione.’

For a moment he thought she might refuse, looking instead at her usual place opposite him, but after a moment she walked towards him and sat down gingerly as the house-elf appeared once again, another plate in its hand.

‘Are you all right?’ Draco asked her quietly as he leant close to her. ‘What’s the matter?’

Hermione stared at him, her eyes widening slightly, and gave the briefest shake of her head, indicating that she couldn’t talk.

‘I suggest we all just eat our dinner,’ Lucius said, breaking up the conversation. ‘Hermione, would you like some wine? Draco, have you got some?’ He started to pour wine for them both.

Draco was still looking at Hermione. He was worried about her, particularly considering the amount of time she had spent with his father today.

‘Are you okay?’ he repeated.

Hermione wished that Draco would stop asking her questions she couldn’t answer truthfully. If he wasn’t careful he was going to ruin everything, and the last thing she needed was Lucius in a bad mood with her again.

She had already suffered enough this afternoon when she had been unable to answer his questions. Hermione knew that Lucius thought she was lying even though she had told him everything she knew, which admittedly wasn’t much, thank Merlin. His games, while no doubt fun for him, had been pure torture for her — quite literally — when in his anger he had cast the Cruciatus Curse on her several times because she hadn’t given the answers he wanted to hear.

Even the sex had been rougher than usual, which was saying something because he had never been gentle with her. Today’s assault had been almost feral, the bondage only intensifying the feelings. She had come out of it bearing several large bruises although fortunately, none of them was in a place that Narcissa or Draco would ever see.

She honestly hoped Lucius would never do that to her again but she had seen the expression of enjoyment on his face, both during the torture and the sex, and knew he really relished what he was doing. There was absolutely nothing she could do to stop him the next time he decided to do the same.  

Hermione gave Draco another small smile as she nodded to confirm she was okay, but she knew he wasn’t fooled. Her eyes were full of tears and it would take very little to set her off. She needed to concentrate on eating, even though she wasn’t at all hungry, then get back to her room before she caused a scene, upsetting Lucius once more. 

‘Leave Hermione alone, please, Draco, and eat your dinner,’ Narcissa said, her voice tart with a slight warning tone. She glanced quickly at Lucius, who was happily eating his dinner, then back at her son.

‘No!’ Draco surprised himself at the vehemence of his tone. ‘I want to know that Hermione is all right.’

He moved from his chair and closer to Hermione. He noted her stricken face, her terrified eyes warning him to stop, but he was unable to back down now. He wrapped her in his arms and hugged her tightly.

‘Do you want to go somewhere else?’ he asked her quietly, making it clear that he was willing to support her if she wanted to leave this farce of a meal.

‘Draco, sit down now!’ Lucius ordered. ‘This is dinner, not feeding time at the zoo, and you will act accordingly.’ 

Draco turned to glare at his father but didn’t release Hermione.

‘I know what you’re doing,’ he hissed warningly.

Lucius, looking angrier than Draco ever remembered seeing him, glared at his son, and Draco knew that the moment to stand up to him had finally come. Narcissa’s face drained of colour as she stared frantically at Draco, silently willing him to shut up and sit down.

‘Draco, please.’ Hermione’s voice was just above a whisper. She put her hand on his arm and looked pleadingly at him, another tiny shake of her head telling him not to say anything more, as she pulled from his arms.

Distraught, Draco stared at her for a moment, then narrowed his eyes at his father before taking a deep breath to try to calm himself. Hermione didn’t want him to fight so he wouldn’t, although reluctantly. But she didn’t have to put up with sitting through this meal that was obviously causing her pain, either.

‘All right,' he conceded unhappily to Hermione, noting the look of relief that settled on his mother’s face at the words and the smug grin of victory on his father’s. He ignored both of them, focussing only on Hermione. ‘But we’re not staying here. Let’s go riding.’

He held out his hand to Hermione, gripping hers and pulling her from her seat although she moved slowly, and then only reluctantly.

‘You are not going anywhere. Now sit down and eat your dinner and stop being so stupid,’ Lucius commanded furiously.

Hermione froze at his words and started to sink back into her seat but Draco, not willing to let her go, pulled her up again.

‘Hermione hasn’t eaten all day and really needs some food,’ Narcissa pleaded with her son.

‘So I’ll get her something from the kitchen on the way out. I’m sure the house-elves have plenty to spare down there. We’ll take it with us. Come on, Hermione, let’s get out of here.’

‘I told you to sit down,’ Lucius said. ‘Now do as you’re told.’

He pointed to Hermione’s chair. She stared at him in terror, not sitting only because Draco was holding onto her too tightly.  

‘Or you’ll do what?’ Draco asked. He glared at Lucius, daring him to respond, as his mother and Hermione both looked on, completely horrified.

‘Oh, you think you’re the big man now, do you?’ Lucius’ voice was quiet but dripped with sarcastic intent. ‘Think you’re going to rescue Hermione and have her fall into your arms, so grateful that she’ll do anything you want?’

Draco opened his mouth to reply, but before he could say anything Lucius continued, ‘She still won’t want you, _boy_ , whatever you do for her. She still won’t give you what you want. Do you think I don’t know that you sneak into her bed every night and hold her tight, just hoping that one night she’ll give you even a little bit of what she gives me?’

Narcissa stared at her son in surprise as Draco mirrored the same look with his father. She had obviously had no idea he was spending his nights with Hermione. Meanwhile, Hermione stood with her head down, trying not to cry, wishing that Draco hadn’t done anything to force this confrontation.

Now Narcissa knew what she and Lucius had been doing as well, although Lucius had cleverly twisted it so it didn’t sound like she was an unwilling participant — exactly what she had always thought he would do. She was mortified that the woman who had taken her in and had, in a far greater way than Hermione had ever expected, treated her as a daughter was learning that her husband was an adulterer, and with the girl she had never wanted to accept in the first place. Hermione had betrayed Narcissa’s trust, even if she hadn’t had any choice in the matter.

‘I comfort her and try to keep her sane and whole after you tear her apart,’ Draco retorted, his anger rising. ‘You wanted her to be my sister and that’s what she is to me, nothing more and nothing less. I have _never_ had any desire for Hermione sexually, regardless of what you think, nor would I — especially if I had to stoop to your level to get it.

‘I understand why you want her — she is beautiful and I’m sure it makes you feel wonderful forcing her to do things she doesn’t want to do, things that make her wish she was dead. But you don’t care about that, do you? All you think about is your own sick desires and the need for gratification. You’ll do anything to satiate that need, however disgusting or perverted.’

‘Draco!’ Narcissa exclaimed, trying to get her son to stop talking.

Lucius stared at him with an icy calm that terrified her far more than him losing his temper would have done.

‘If you are not happy with the way things are in this house you can always leave — you going a few days early isn’t going to upset anyone,’ he told Draco coldly.

Hermione stared at Draco with dismay. Although she knew he would be returning to Hogwarts without her she had hoped for his calming presence to see her through the current pain and the next few days of panic. He couldn’t leave now, he just couldn’t, or she would break down. It was going to be hard enough seeing him leave for school as it was without him leaving her here alone even earlier.

‘We’ll be happy to go — anything to get away from _you_ ,’ Draco said, ignoring his mother’s pained look as he said it. He turned to Hermione and took her hand. ‘Come on, Hermione. Let’s get a few bits together and we’ll leave.’

Hermione didn’t move, but she looked terrified.

‘I said _you_ could go, Draco. I didn’t say anything about Hermione leaving,’ Lucius said casually.

Draco stared at him and realised he was holding his wand.

‘What have you done to her?’ he asked, fear rising in him. ‘Let her go.’

‘I’ve merely used a small sticking charm to keep her in her place, although Hermione already knows exactly where her place is — don’t you, my sweet?’ He leered at Hermione, who stared back unhappily. ‘The Ministry placed her here — with me — and here she’s going to stay, despite whatever _you_ think should happen.’

He surveyed Draco, gloatingly, ‘Go on — you’re so eager to leave, Draco, so leave.’

‘Mother, please. You have to do something,’ Draco pleaded, unable to understand why she was just sitting there not reacting at all to what was happening.

‘Do you remember what I told you, Narcissa?’ Lucius warned her, his gimlet gaze now firmly on his wife. ‘Remember your place — unless you want to leave with your son.’

Hermione regarded him with shock, unable to believe what she was hearing. Lucius wasn’t really goading Narcissa and Draco into leaving Malfoy Manor — into leaving her alone with him. He couldn’t mean it, surely?

Narcissa stared at her husband for several long seconds, an expression of pure loathing crossing her face.

‘As I told you before, Lucius, it’s none of my business but you really shouldn’t speak to Draco that way. He is your son and heir and you would do well to keep him on your side.’

Lucius snorted dismissively. ‘Son and heir? Please. He’s a complete waste of space, as he’s just proved — once again. I’d be happy to see the back of both of you.’ He picked up the bottle and filled his glass once more, draining almost the whole lot in one mouthful, then looked daggers at Draco. ‘Well, are you going to leave or do I have to throw you out?’

Hermione had no idea what was going on apart from the fact that she still couldn’t move, trapped as she was by Lucius’ spell. She didn’t understand the conversation Narcissa and Lucius had just had. It sounded like Narcissa was aware of what Lucius had been doing to her and had been happy to let him continue without interference — but that couldn’t be true, could it? And now Lucius was talking about throwing Draco out of the house.

‘I’m not going anywhere without Hermione,’ Draco said bravely, staring down his father.

‘She’s going nowhere — except back upstairs,’ Lucius told him with a wicked smirk. ‘You, on the other hand—’

‘Draco, apologise to your father and sit down,’ Narcissa urged worriedly.

‘It’s too late for that, Narcissa. Draco’s made his choice so now he can live with it,’ Lucius told her as he stroked his wand. He looked at Draco once more. ‘Well, go on, get out — before you humiliate yourself any further. I have to admit I’m embarrassed to call you my son.’

Draco stared at Hermione with dismay. ‘I’m so sorry,’ he told her quietly.

She stared back at him, too scared to speak in case it angered Lucius further. She was upset at how he was treating Draco, particularly when he had only been trying to help her. Eventually, she smiled at Draco, hoping that her eyes told him how much she appreciated what he had tried to do for her and how much she was going to miss him.

‘Say goodbye to Draco, Hermione,’ Lucius said, sounding bored now. He had downed another glass of wine and now stood, swaying a little before moving towards her.

She glanced at him for a moment then looked at Draco, staring deep into his eyes. ‘I’ll miss you,’ she said quietly.

Draco looked pained at her words. She held out her hand to grip his, squeezing it.

‘Thank you,’ she whispered.

‘I’m so sorry, Hermione,’ he told her, his eyes filling with tears at the thought of how badly he had let her down.

‘It’s okay. I’ll be fine,’ Hermione promised as she let go of his hand, although she knew she was lying. ‘Please don’t worry about me. I’ll see you again.’

‘Not if I have anything to do with it,’ Lucius said, interrupting them. He was now at Hermione’s side, also looking at Draco. ‘I suggest that you be gone by the time I get back — if you know what’s good for you,’ he warned.

Before Hermione even had a chance to say anything else to Draco, Lucius wrapped his arm around her waist and used his wand to Disapparate them both.

Draco stared in surprise at the place where they had been standing.

‘Why did you confront him?’ Narcissa asked, sounding heartbroken. She had left her seat and come to join him. ‘Why couldn’t you just leave things as they were? You only had another couple of days, anyway. Then you could return to school and forget all about what was happening here. Now you’ve ruined everything.’

Draco surveyed her coldly. ‘I don’t know how you can stand by and let him hurt her like that. It’s disgusting. I would never have believed you capable of such heartlessness, Mother. Hermione never wanted to come here in the first place — she’s only here because _he_ convinced that old twit, Cornelius Fudge, that we would take care of her. But instead—’ his voice broke, his head shaking sadly.

‘You need to leave before he comes back, Draco,’ Narcissa urged worriedly. ‘Go to one of your friends and stay with them until it’s time to go to school — the Goyles will take you in, won’t they? I’ll arrange to have your trunk packed and sent to King’s Cross.’

‘But what about Hermione?’ Draco sounded as if he was in pain.

‘You would do well to forget all about her,’ Narcissa advised. ‘Just go back to Hogwarts and forget that Hermione Granger ever existed.’

‘Are you saying—’

‘I’m not saying anything,’ Narcissa admonished, pushing her son towards the door. ‘I’m just saying there is no point in worrying about something you can do nothing about. Now go, please. Don’t let your father find you still here when he comes back.’ She stared at him, shaking her head. ‘Whatever you’re thinking about doing, it’s really not worth it.’

‘Hermione’s not worth it, you mean,’ Draco accused bitterly.

‘No, I mean that you don’t stand a chance against your father,’ Narcissa admitted. ‘He knows Dark magic you can only dream of, Draco, and in the mood he’s in he won’t hesitate to use it. It doesn’t matter that you’re his son. You’ve annoyed him beyond all sensible reason, and as drunk as he is he won’t worry about whether what he does is right or wrong.’

‘I can’t just leave her with him,’ Draco insisted.

Narcissa grabbed his hands, frantically trying to make him see sense. ‘You don’t have any choice. Staying isn’t going to help Hermione, but you _will_ get hurt.’

‘Please promise me you’ll do something to help her,’ Draco begged.

‘She’s in his area of the house and I see her only when he wants me to,’ Narcissa pointed out. ‘After your little stunt this evening I suspect that access will be even further reduced.’ She looked at Draco’s hopeless expression and sighed deeply. ‘I promise you that if there is anything I can do for Hermione, I will do it. But you need to go now.’

Draco nodded and hugged his mother. She wrapped her arms around him, holding him tightly.

‘Please apologise to her for me,’ he said.

‘Hermione knows you were trying to help her,’ Narcissa assured him. ‘Now go, please.’

Draco gave her one final hug, then left the room. Narcissa returned to the table and picked up her wine glass with a trembling hand as she blinked away tears she could never allow to fall.

‘You’re still here, then?’ Lucius’ tone was cold and sounded almost disappointed as he entered the room. ‘Has Draco left?’

‘He’s gone to stay with friends,’ Narcissa said, trying to keep her voice from fluttering. She took a sip of her wine as Lucius snapped his fingers to summon a house-elf for another bottle. ‘I told you not to let him see what you were doing.’

‘I wasn’t aware that he knew at first,’ Lucius admitted. He and Narcissa had sat down once the house-elf delivered the wine. ‘Then I discovered he was going to her at night.’

‘I didn’t know about that.’

‘Would you have stopped him if you had?’ Lucius asked interestedly.

Narcissa considered the question for a moment. ‘I don’t know, to be honest.’ She sighed loudly. ‘You have kept Hermione away from all her friends, Lucius, have isolated her in the extreme and Draco did what he thought was right, particularly after all the times we drummed into him that he had to accept her as his sister. You can’t be annoyed with him for stepping into the role you assigned him and it’s not surprising that he would feel protective of her, especially when—’

She broke off, aware that what she had been about to say wouldn’t make her popular with her husband, and he was now even drunker as half the new bottle of wine had already disappeared down his throat. ‘Perhaps if you had seduced her rather than—’ she broke off again, rubbing her eyes as she sighed once more. ‘Why did you have to rape her, Lucius?’  

Lucius glowered at her over the top of his glass. ‘Rape is a strong word, Narcissa. I suggest you think carefully what you’re accusing me of.’

‘That’s what it’s called when you force someone to have sex with you when they don’t want to,’ Narcissa pointed out primly. ‘You can’t tell me Hermione is happy with what you do to her — it’s quite clear she isn’t — and don’t tell me you feel good about it, either. With the amount of alcohol you chuck down your neck every night, presumably because of your guilt, I’m surprised you haven’t drowned.’

Lucius took another large mouthful of wine, then chuckled. ‘I don’t feel guilty. I don’t have anything to feel guilty about.’

 _Really?_ ’ Narcissa curled her lip at him in disgust. ‘Are you really so far gone that you think your behaviour is acceptable? We’re just lucky your friend Cornelius hasn’t been back to check on Hermione’s progress. Idiot though he may be, even he would be able to see there is something terribly wrong here. He might even have her removed.’

‘That’s why I’m putting the Manor into lockdown,’ Lucius said, brushing away Narcissa’s comments about his behaviour.

‘You’re doing what?’ Narcissa asked sharply.

‘I’m locking the place down. No one in or out except for the house-elves. Obviously, they’ll need free movement in order to keep the place running properly, but other than that the place is off limits.’ Lucius saw Narcissa staring at him as if he was mad so he elaborated. ‘The Dark Lord has successfully taken over the Ministry of Magic, that old fool, Albus Dumbledore, is long gone and Severus has moved into prime position at Hogwarts, so generally, everything is going well. Meanwhile, Potter and his friend Weasley have disappeared, seemingly off the face of the earth, but I don’t believe for one minute that they’re dead — Merlin only knows where they’ll turn up.’

‘Do you think they’ll come for Hermione?’ Narcissa asked.

‘They can try,’ Lucius said dismissively. ‘I actually rather hope they do. It would be enormously satisfying if I was the one to hand Potter over to the Dark Lord. I think it’s unlikely, though. From my questioning of Hermione today I got the impression that not only does she not have any idea where her friends are or what they’re doing, but she doesn’t expect them to try to rescue her — and I know she wasn’t lying.’

Narcissa gazed at him suspiciously. ‘When you say “questioned” her . . . ?’

Lucius chuckled again. ‘All I did was convince her that she needed to tell me the truth.’

‘You mean you tortured her,’ Narcissa said quietly, a feeling of dread running through her.

Lucius shrugged easily. ‘Torture is such a nasty word, Narcissa. All we did was talk — well, mainly talk. I may have lost my temper with her a couple of times because I thought she was holding back — but the Cruciatus Curse is so effective at loosening tongues.’

‘You used an Unforgivable Curse on Hermione?’ Narcissa sounded shocked.

‘I’m a Death Eater, Narcissa. That’s what we do — get people to talk about the stuff we need to know. And I needed to know about Potter.’

‘I still don’t understand why you’re closing the house down,’ Narcissa said.

Lucius emptied the bottle of wine, already clicking his fingers for another.

‘If Potter turns up looking for Hermione he’ll effectively be trapped,’ he said.

‘But you said you don’t expect him to come here,’ Narcissa pointed out.

‘It’ll also stop Draco or any of his stupid friends if he decides to play the hero again and tries to come back.’ Lucius finished his wine and growled, ‘Where’s that bloody house-elf with the wine?’ He peered at Narcissa, his eyes rheumy from the drink now. ‘I’m not having anyone in the house, and that’s final.’ 

‘Maybe I don’t want to be trapped in here like some prisoner,’ Narcissa said testily.

‘Well, leave, then. I’m not stopping you.’

‘You want me to leave you alone with Hermione?’ Narcissa shook her head, looking and sounding disgusted.

‘Oh please, don’t start pretending now that you have any feelings for the girl,’ Lucius snorted.

‘Draco would never forgive me—’ 

Lucius snorted again. ‘Oh, I’m sure he will, eventually. Once he’s back at school he’ll forget all about Hermione, and if not he’ll have me to hate — which will be more than enough for him.’

‘I actually, honestly think you have gone completely insane, Lucius,’ Narcissa admitted.

Lucius didn’t answer. Instead, he grinned maniacally at her and poured himself another drink, then raised his glass as if in a toast.

Narcissa shuddered. ‘I’m going to bed. I’ve got a headache.’

‘Maybe you should get away for a while,’ Lucius postulated.

‘Maybe I should,’ Narcissa agreed unhappily.


	6. PART ONE - CHAPTER SIX

Lucius was enormously pleased when Narcissa followed Draco out of Malfoy Manor within a month of their son leaving. She told him she was going to stay with her sister, Bellatrix and her husband Rodolphus, but he honestly didn’t care what she did as long as she left him alone. All he could think about was Hermione, and with Malfoy Manor now completely locked down there was no one to stop him in his pursuit of her; no one to hold him back from doing whatever he wanted with the beautiful girl. Hermione was his, body and soul, and he had every intention of using their time alone together well.

He had fairly rapidly come to the conclusion that there was no point in torturing Hermione in the hope of further revelations about her friends or the Order of the Phoenix as he was sure she had already told him everything she knew, but he was interested to note his feeling of disappointment at the thought.

Lucius had discovered that he had something of a sadistic streak in him; he quite enjoyed the pain he gave Hermione, particularly knowing she was completely helpless to do anything in retaliation. Although he would never admit it out loud, he was fairly certain he would continue to use pain on her in the future — even the slightest hesitation on her part gave him the excuse he needed to punish her.

Narcissa’s leaving, and more particularly Draco’s, had given Lucius another freedom: he no longer needed to worry about his alcohol consumption or, more accurately, what someone could do to him while he was under the influence. Hermione had no wand as he had confiscated it from her almost as soon as she had arrived at Malfoy Manor, and with the family gone from the house he no longer had to lock himself away when he was pissed.

If he was honest, Lucius was a little annoyed with himself at the amount he was drinking. Despite what he had told Narcissa, guilt did play a factor and it had driven him to seek solace in the bottle and continued to do so. However, in the months since his wife and son had left, his guilt had been transformed.

Although he was still having trouble reconciling his desire to look after Hermione as a father with his equally strong need to possess her as a lover, now they were alone and there was no longer the façade of a family to hide behind he was also having trouble pushing the fact that Hermione was Muggle-born out of his mind, something that was particularly difficult when his obsession with her was growing daily.

It was this guilt, more often than not, that sent him in search of the alcohol, his rabid Pure-blood beliefs pushing back against his lust and causing him to lash out at a terrified and by now half-mad Hermione, who spent every day scared out of her wits and wondering whether this would be the day that Lucius would finally lose control completely and kill her.

Sexually, Lucius was every bit as ferocious as he had always been. His craving for Hermione was like an addiction that he would do anything to slake, and there was still that deep-seated need for her to want him just as much in return. But if his guilt surfaced when he was with her then Hermione would sustain a beating — at best — he couldn’t even remember the last time he had seen her without bruises, it was probably before the first time he’d had sex with her as even on that occasion he had marked her face.

In the six months since Narcissa had left he had so far almost killed Hermione five times: twice puncturing her lungs as a result of the broken ribs she had received when he had been in a particularly bad mood with her, twice when he had almost strangled her, and once when he had hexed her so badly she had been unconscious for several long and uncomfortable days. Most of the time he was able to heal her himself, although he was aware that with each attack Hermione became ever more fragile and therefore more at risk. But several times he had hurt her so badly that he’d had no choice but to seek help from Severus. 

His friend provided the requested potions, notwithstanding the fact that he hadn’t been at all happy about doing so. Severus had berated Lucius at length about his treatment of Hermione although he stopped short of pleading for clemency for her, understanding that this would do nothing but inflame his insane friend further and could prove fatal for the poor girl under Lucius’ control.

But despite the fact that the thought of losing Hermione scared him more than he wanted to admit, Lucius couldn’t stop his barbaric treatment of her, trapped in a vicious cycle that was destroying him every bit as much as it was destroying her. As the months passed, his interest in anything outside of Malfoy Manor dwindled to almost zero.

He knew the Dark Lord considered him both a liability and a broken man, an insane alcoholic worthy only of disgust and ridicule, and Lucius had been quietly sidelined, no longer called to his master’s side to take part in raids or even to fight against Potter and his allies once the war began in earnest.

But Lucius honestly didn’t care. He had no desire to leave Malfoy Manor or Hermione and he had no intention of giving her up, whatever happened in the world outside. She now consumed his entire life just as he dominated hers — there was nothing but the two of them, and that was exactly how he wanted it.

Him and Hermione, alone, forever.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Hermione was still shaking. She had been ever since she was wrapped in a blanket and carried away from Malfoy Manor by the Aurors that had come to arrest Lucius in the aftermath of the war, and nothing she had tried so far seemed to stop it. It was as if she was permanently scarred by her bad treatment and it was coming out as a nervous twitch.

The rescue itself had been almost unbelievable to her and had also been one of the scariest moments of her life — and she had lived through plenty of those now. She had long since given up any hope that she would make it out of Malfoy Manor alive, resigned to the fact that eventually, Lucius would kill her, assuming he didn’t kill himself from overdoing the alcohol first.

The raid, when it came, was loud, terrifying and over far more quickly than Hermione would have expected. Lucius, dead-drunk as he seemed to be most of the time these days, had somewhat surprisingly capitulated almost immediately, relinquishing his wand to the Aurors and watching unhappily and somewhat bemusedly as Hermione was carried away to safety and a thorough examination at the hospital.

She had spent almost nine months alone with Lucius, during which time she had almost died several times and had wished that she would more times than she could count. Throughout it all, despite every beating and every assault on her body, she had kept going, her only wish to see Harry and Ron one more time, to discover whether her friends had defeated Voldemort, and to finally feel Ron’s arms around her, holding her tightly in the way Draco used to so long ago.

There was still that spark of desire for Ron deep inside her that hadn’t been there with Draco. Lucius hadn’t managed to completely extinguish that flame.

Hermione knew she looked a mess even before she registered the expressions of shock on the faces of her rescuers. She was a mass of contusions and lacerations and had two black eyes where Lucius had broken her nose only a couple of days before. She hurt everywhere, and even her transportation to St Mungo’s was painful, despite her rescuers’ attempt to be gentle with her.

She hated Lucius more than she had ever hated anyone in her life, but at the same time he was her whole life and she was completely unable to let him go; so dependent on him for everything now that his absence left her bereft as if the most important part of her was gone and she couldn’t get it back. Being away from Malfoy Manor scared Hermione and although she couldn’t understand why, being away from Lucius made her fretful and agitated. She became so distressed when they were first separated that the Healer had no choice but to sedate her and now she was under permanent watch, unable to be left alone for even a few minutes in case she did something stupid.

It was a few days before Harry and Ron were allowed to visit. Although they had obviously been told, in general terms at least, about Hermione’s condition, they were both still visibly shocked when they actually saw her. Harry, always the more forward of the pair, was quick to comfort her. But although it was nice that one of her friends obviously cared about her that much Hermione couldn’t help but be a bit disappointed by Ron’s attitude. 

All the times she had thought about him over the months she had been at Malfoy Manor, and there had been many, Ron had always been her support, her rock to lean on. With the slowly burgeoning feelings that had been building between the two of them before the fateful event that had led to her incarceration and everything that had happened since, Hermione wanted nothing more than for him to hug her and tell her everything would be okay and that he would look after her and make sure no one would ever hurt her again.

But instead, Ron seemed ill at ease, almost unable to talk to her, and he certainly never made any move to hold her. He made a few feeble jokes, produced a bag of grapes that he had already eaten half of, then let Harry do all the talking while he sat and observed Hermione almost sullenly. She had no idea what Ron was seeing when he looked at her but she already knew that whatever it was, any romantic feelings on his part were gone. Hermione was broken-hearted when she realised and wondered what had happened to change him so much, but she never once showed her misery, determined only to be cheerful with her friends.  

Despite being disappointed by Ron’s reaction to her, Hermione tried to push it down, determined not to let it add to the bitterness she already felt about the way her life had been ruined. Maybe, once she recovered a little, once the bruises and cuts were gone and she looked normal again, she and Ron could take steps to rebuild their relationship and hopefully rekindle the flame that still burned inside her and she was sure must still be there somewhere deep inside Ron.

But although she had recovered well, physically at least, Hermione and Ron’s relationship remained as distant as it had been the first time he came to see her. There was a wariness about him now that she hadn’t experienced in his company since their earliest days at Hogwarts, and it made her sad to realise that however hard she tried to resurrect their closeness, Ron had no interest in being anything other than the undemonstrative friend he had always been.

It hadn’t taken Hermione long to realise that her dear friend, always so transparent and clear-cut in his emotions, blamed her for what had happened at Malfoy Manor. Despite intervention from Harry on several occasions when their seemingly innocuous conversations turned into an accusing rant by Ron, he apparently would not or could not believe Hermione hadn’t done something to cause Lucius to act in the way he had.

Hermione tried talking to him again and again, each time dredging up the pain — from the loss of her parents right through to remembrance of the physical and mental cruelty she had suffered at the hands of her captor — but it had no effect on Ron. Eventually, with a sinking heart, she had no choice but to accept that her relationship with Ron could never be salvaged and she began to distance herself from him as much as she could.

This was somewhat difficult at first as both of them were living at the Burrow; Molly and Arthur had insisted she stay with them on her release from the hospital. Hermione began to make plans to go back to Hogwarts in September, determined to finish the year Lucius had stolen from her. That was still a couple of months away, but with Harry, Ron and Neville now working for the Ministry of Magic pursuing their dreams of becoming Aurors she didn’t have to spend much time with them as they were often away capturing and prosecuting those remaining Death Eaters who had so far escaped death or justice.

Then Ron and Harry left the Burrow completely, moving with Neville into a crappy little flat nearer to the Ministry so their irregular work hours wouldn’t disturb anyone else, and they were all so excited about it that it seemed they had forgotten Hermione even existed.

It hurt at first, knowing that the friendship that had sustained her through not only her captivity but six of the most important and formative years of her life had been shattered almost beyond repair. All she could do now was retreat and bide her time and hope that eventually Ron would understand how unfair he was being to her. 

 

 

* * *

 

 

Hermione tugged nervously at her top, finding it hard to stand still as she waited in the visitor’s queue to be admitted to the Ministry of Magic. She felt guilty although she had no idea why, and she expected a guard to grab her at any moment and haul her away for some crime she didn’t even know she had committed.

Maybe it was an automatic reaction for all visitors to the Ministry; the place was still the bastion of law and order for the wizarding world although it was now far more open and inclusive under the watchful eye of Kingsley Shacklebolt than it had ever been under the ironclad grip of one her least favourite people, Cornelius Fudge.

Hermione still hadn’t forgiven Fudge for abandoning her to the pain and suffering she had undergone with Lucius. The stupid man had been so blinded by the Death Eater’s immaculate act that he had wrenched her away from the comfort and help she needed so badly in the aftermath of her parents’ death and into the cold and ultimately hateful family she had tried so hard to become a part of.

By the time she reached the guard station for them to process her wand, Hermione was feeling sick, ready to turn and run. Why had she ever thought this was a good idea? It was the worst idea imaginable and she had no real understanding of what had driven her here.

‘Why are you here today?’ the guard asked in a friendly manner as Hermione handed him her wand to put on the brass scale. He gave her a reassuring smile.

Hermione swallowed nervously. ‘I’m here to see a friend.’

The guard looked at the slip of parchment that had been produced with her wand’s details upon it. ‘Ten and three-quarter inches, vine wood, dragon heartstring, been in use for seven years?’

‘That’s right,’ Hermione confirmed.

‘Do you know where you need to go?’ he asked kindly.

Hermione nodded. ‘I’m meeting him in the Atrium.’

The guard smiled again as he gave her back her wand, his tone pleasant as he nodded in approval. ‘It’s quite pleasant in there now, ever since they got rid of that bloody awful statue that Pius Thicknesse had installed. It’s a nice place to have a drink and a bite to eat — you’ll enjoy it.’

Hermione gave him a wan smile, figuring this was what he was trying to coax from her. It was what everyone tried to do, apparently uncomfortable with the serious visage that was Hermione’s usual expression these days. It had now been almost four months since she had been released from Malfoy Manor but she still found it hard to smile; her lighthearted side, once so readily apparent, seemed gone forever.

She thanked the guard and followed the never-ending stream of people entering the Ministry, walking along the long corridor towards the Atrium. The last time she had been here was during her fifth year at Hogwarts, when she and her friends followed Harry on what he had thought was a quest to save his godfather, Sirius Black, from attack by Voldemort, who was using him to access a weapon that was being held somewhere in the bowels of the Ministry. It was a weapon the Order of the Phoenix had been guarding all year and that Arthur Weasley, Ron’s dad, had almost died to protect.

They had raced on thestrals, a bloody scary experience for Hermione as she still couldn’t even see them, all the way from Scotland down to London, Harry convinced all the while that Sirius was being tortured. The place was so big that they had no idea where to start looking; but then Harry, remembering his dreams, had directed them to the distinctly scary and unsettling Department of Mysteries, with its many doors and its unpleasant surprises.

Lucius had been there, Hermione remembered with a jolt of surprise. She had completely forgotten that until just now. He was leading a group of Death Eaters including his sister-in-law, the mad witch Bellatrix Lestrange, who had come to the Ministry knowing Harry and his friends were there looking for and finally locating the weapon Voldemort had been so eager to attain. It turned out not to be a weapon after all but a prophecy made about Harry and Voldemort shortly before Harry’s birth.

There had been no sign of Sirius — unsurprisingly — as it turned out that Voldemort had planted false visions in Harry’s mind purely to get him to the Ministry and in possession of the glass ball containing the prophecy. They were the only two people able to take it from the shelf, and Voldemort hadn’t yet been ready to reveal himself to the Ministry of Magic.

Lucius had tried to take the prophecy off Harry, and in the battle that ensued Hermione was seriously injured by one of the Death Eaters, cut down by a vicious curse. Members of the Order of the Phoenix, including Sirius, came to their rescue but she had no memory of this nor of the moment Sirius had died, sent through the strangely unsettling archway they had encountered earlier by a blast from his cousin Bellatrix’s spell.

She had also missed the epic battle that raged between Professor Dumbledore and Voldemort, who had turned up at the Ministry when he realised his forces weren’t winning. The Ministry’s own staff and Fudge, at that time still Minister for Magic, turned up too late to do anything but gaze in astonishment, as usual.

Hermione had only discovered all this later, once she came to in the Hospital Wing at Hogwarts in a bed next to Ron, who had also been quite seriously injured in the Department of Mysteries, and Harry regaled them both with tales of the events they had missed.

Her future captor and tormentor, Lucius, had been captured during the battle and was sent to Azkaban. Unfortunately, he escaped only a few months later along with the other Death Eaters housed there and somehow managed to convince the Ministry of Magic — or Fudge, at least — that he had been falsely imprisoned and wasn’t a Death Eater.

If only Fudge — who Hermione blamed personally for what had happened — had listened to Professor Dumbledore instead of worrying that the Hogwart’s Headmaster was trying to usurp him as Minister for Magic and had checked on the guards in Azkaban prison, he would have known the Dementors had deserted their posts and joined Voldemort, who could better provide the desperate fare they survived on.

If that had happened, the breakout would never have occurred and Lucius would not have been free to inveigle his old friend into placing Hermione at Malfoy Manor instead of with the Weasleys at the Burrow on the night her parents had died. In fact, it was quite possible that had Lucius and his Death Eater friends stayed locked up in Azkaban, the attack on her parents might never have taken place.

Hermione had reached the Atrium now and looked around in approval. She hadn’t seen the statue the guard spoke of although she had heard about it — a hulking great thing showing Muggles being put in their true place by a Pure-blood witch and wizard, called ‘Magic is Might’ — the one-time logo of the Ministry of Magic itself. It had nauseated her when Harry had told her about it but she wasn’t entirely surprised, remembering who had really been in charge of the Ministry at that time.

The current statue was simple and did not dominate the area as the previous ones had. It was a highly polished black marble column upon which were engraved the names of all those who had lost their lives to Voldemort and his Dark forces. It was surrounded by a square of simple seating in the same stone, water rippling gently along behind and lush green foliage giving the place a tranquil feel.

Hermione walked over to it and wandered around the column, reading the names and remembering some of the people to whom the dedications had been made. She approved of the statue and its setting. It fit perfectly into Kingsley’s vision of what the wizarding world should be in the aftermath of the war, and she was extremely impressed that he had managed to get it erected so quickly; no doubt he wanted to get rid of the previous statue and the associations it invoked as urgently as possible.

It was better than the statue before that one, too, the one that had been destroyed during the battle between Professor Dumbledore and Voldemort. That one had been almost as patronising as the later statue in its own way, a gleaming, towering thing in gold that had to have been made by a wizard. Hermione remembered the faces of the centaur, house-elf and goblin contained within the sculpture as they looked adoringly at the simpering witch and the handsome wizard who, now she came to think of it, looked a lot like Lucius.

She gave a small snort. No doubt a Malfoy ancestor had been elevating his clan again, making out they were the best thing in the wizarding world when the truth was they were nothing but cancer that needed to be cut out, or at the very least locked away and quarantined.

For a moment she felt a twinge of guilt for that thought. Draco, despite all the problems she’d had with him during their early years at school, had been kind to her when she was a prisoner at Malfoy Manor. He had accepted her as his sister, had even fought for her, standing up to his father in a way she would never have believed possible until she saw it for herself.

Even Narcissa had been kind in her own way although Hermione still hadn’t forgiven her for not attempting to stop Lucius in the early days of his abuse. The woman had known what he was doing but had buried her head in the sand, pretending nothing was going on because it was the easiest course of action. She had redeemed herself somewhat once Draco left, taking on his mantle as Hermione’s protector, but Lucius had soon tired of Narcissa’s attempts to force him to behave appropriately and made her life so miserable that she eventually left the manor, too, leaving Hermione alone with her abuser.

Hermione didn’t blame Narcissa for leaving. By that time Lucius was so obsessed with her that he would let nothing and no one stand in his way and, she strongly suspected, would have been quite happy to injure or even kill his wife to get her out of his way. She still remembered their final goodbye, when Narcissa had held her as tenderly as her own mother would have done, tears streaming down both their cheeks as she apologised for leaving her alone in the same way Draco had done only a month or so before. It had broken Hermione’s heart then and still made her feel sad now, but what was done was done and there was no changing it or going back.

She hadn’t seen Draco or Narcissa since she had been released nor did she want to. The close, almost familial bond she and Draco had shared during her incarceration had been fractured when he was thrown out of Malfoy Manor, and by the time she emerged at the end of her ordeal too much time had passed for them to truly recapture what they once had. 

She was pretty sure that the return to school with his friends had given him the chance to reassess the situation, and although she had no proof she suspected Draco’s feelings were now somewhat akin to Ron’s. Had he, too, considered her position in Lucius’ life and come to the conclusion that she had done something to engender the blond Death Eater’s obsession and lust? 

Hermione hoped not. There had been a real bond between them, however briefly, and she fervently wanted to remember him as the young man who had held her as she wept, comforting her and keeping her as safe as he was able, never judging her for what happened between her and his father. Despite the fact she hadn’t made any effort to see him it would be awful to think Draco was out there somewhere scorning her because his viewpoint had changed. 

She sighed as she sat down at a table in a café area close to the statue and stared at her watch. She was five minutes early but hopefully it would give her a chance to calm down and prepare herself. At the moment her heart was racing and there were butterflies in her stomach, swooping and diving, and she wanted to run away.   

A smiling young man dressed in serving attire appeared at her side, almost as if from nowhere.

‘Good afternoon, Miss. Can I get you something?’ he asked, his voice melodious and deferential. He was smiling brightly as if she was the best thing to happen to him all day.

Hermione considered for a moment. ‘I’m waiting for a friend who should be here shortly. Can I have a pot of tea for two, please?’

‘Certainly, you may,’ the young man answered with another smile. Almost bowing, he backed away and disappeared much as he had arrived.

Hermione picked up the menu and glanced at it briefly as she waited for the tea to arrive. Harry and Ron had both complained to her about the food here but she guessed this wasn’t where they normally ate. The café was quite expensive considering the sort of fare it served and with its pleasant location was clearly there to attract visitors to the Ministry of Magic rather than its employees.

The young man was back, carrying a tray with a flourish that exposed that he was a bit of a show-off. With another grin at Hermione followed by a cheeky wink, he unloaded the tray and withdrew as Hermione lifted the lid of the teapot to give the leaves a stir.

‘I’m glad you’ve ordered tea, Hermione. I’m absolutely gasping,’ Arthur Weasley said pleasantly as he joined her, giving her a brief hug and a kiss on the cheek before taking his place at the table opposite her.

‘How are you?’ He peered at her.

Hermione tried to give him a smile but it was as pale as the one she had given the guard.

‘I’m fine, thank you, Mr Weasley,’ she said politely as she poured tea into two cups. ‘Help yourself to milk and sugar.’

Arthur took a sip of his tea with a sigh of contentment. ‘You’re looking well today, although a little pale maybe.’

‘I’m doing okay,’ Hermione told him, trying to take her mind off the reason she was at the Ministry in the first place, which was probably what was making her look so pale.

She remembered that she hadn’t seen much of Arthur recently outside of hurried mealtimes at the Burrow. He had been busy with his new promotion and she had been here, there and everywhere desperately trying to put her life back together.

‘I’m just getting prepared to go back to Hogwarts in September and study for my final year of N.E.W.T.s. It’s been a while since I’ve done any formal study and I know I’ll have a lot of work to catch up on to get me back up to speed but I’m really looking forward to it, and I’m hopeful that I’ll be able to match Percy for qualifications by this time next year. He got full marks on all of his N.E.W.T.s, didn’t he?’

‘He did,’ Arthur agreed, sounding proud of his son. ‘If there was one thing our Percy was always very good at it was academic qualifications. He might have been a bit of an idiot in a lot of ways . . . although, of course, he came good in the end.’

He studied Hermione as he drank his tea. Even though she seemed to be doing all right, as she had told him, she had completely lost her verve. She was serious and never wore a smile, at least no more than a ghost of one, and there was a slight indecisiveness that had never been there before as if she was second-guessing every move she made.

Although she didn’t mention it, Arthur was aware that Hermione still suffered from crippling nightmares and acute mood swings that often plunged her into almost bottomless depression; he couldn’t help but wonder whether this year was too early to return to the strict and rigid environment of Hogwarts.

‘Do you think you’re ready to return to school?’ he asked kindly. ‘It’s only been a few months since you were rescued and—’

‘I need to go,’ Hermione admitted slightly desperately, cutting him off. ‘I need to keep my mind occupied and studying for my N.E.W.T.s will do that.’

She didn’t mention that it would help her to stop thinking about the bad stuff, but she was pretty sure Arthur understood what she really meant.

‘I’m just a bit worried that after all the stress you’ve been under, adding more, especially in a pressurised environment like Hogwarts, might not be the right thing for you right now. Why don’t you leave it a year and go back when you’ve given yourself a chance to fully recover?’ Arthur suggested.

Hermione stared at him as if he was completely mad. ‘I’ve just told you I need to keep myself occupied, Mr Weasley. What am I supposed to do with myself for a whole year while I wait for next September to roll round?’

‘How about coming to work for the Ministry?’ Arthur suggested. ‘Kingsley is crying out for good staff at the moment and I’m sure he would be more than happy to give you a job.’

Hermione wrinkled her nose. ‘To be honest, I’m not sure it’s for me. I’m not really cut out to be an Auror, having seen what Harry, Ron and Neville get up to. And I don’t want to go anywhere near the Department of Mysteries ever again. That place gave me the creeps.’

Arthur chuckled. ‘Yes, it affects a lot of people like that. You definitely have to be a certain type of person to become an Unspeakable. But there are plenty of other departments you could consider. I’m sure any of them would keep your mind sufficiently occupied, then you could decide later whether you wanted to return to school.’

 _But a job at the Ministry wouldn’t keep me away from Ron and the heartbreak that being near him causes_ , Hermione thought sadly. Going back to Hogwarts was geographically preferable to being located in the same building as her far-too-distant friend.

Even though it might cause some problems, particularly if her nightmares persisted, she was certain that in the long run it was a better option than working at the Ministry of Magic. Anyway, she had always wanted to finish her education and honestly didn’t see any point in putting it off for another year. 

‘I know it seems like a lot of work but I really do think I’m ready,’ Hermione said. ‘I’ll admit that there have been a few tough times in the last few months, but if I need help Madam Pomfrey will be right there. It’s going to be fine, honestly. You don’t need to worry about me, Mr Weasley.’

Arthur thought about what she had just told him, trying to spot any holes in her argument, some sign that Hermione wasn’t as stable as she was trying to appear, but she seemed to have covered herself well, and the bit about Poppy Pomfrey was clearly designed to assuage any worry he and his wife had about her.

But whatever Hermione said out loud, there was still something holding her down, stopping her from spreading her wings and reaching for the heights everyone knew she could achieve if she set her mind to it; something that was pulling her inexorably into a dark and dangerous place. That thing was Lucius Malfoy, and in particular, her mental state after his treatment of her during her incarceration at Malfoy Manor.

Except in the very early days after Hermione’s rescue when the Ministry of Magic needed to question her extensively to discover what she had survived and Arthur had acted in the role of guardian, accompanying her to the meetings and ensuring that the questioning didn’t go beyond what the poor girl could bear at the time, they had never discussed her captivity at Malfoy Manor nor had they talked about what Lucius had done to her.

Arthur knew all about it, of course. He had seen the reports from St Mungo’s listing her extensive collection of injuries both internal and external and had listened as Hermione described, in sometimes far too graphic detail, some of the things Lucius had done to her. There was a lot she hadn’t told them, though. Arthur knew this, as he was sure the Ministry did, too, but with his other crimes also being taken into account, they had more than enough to convict Lucius and didn’t need to insist that Hermione reveal any further details, for which he was glad.

The suggested counsellor had been gently rebuffed, Hermione not being ready to face her demons and drive them away yet, so Arthur had left her to heal by herself, certain that Hermione knew what was best for her and was sensible enough to ask for help when she needed it — although having seen the state she was in after her release he had anticipated the process taking considerably longer than a few months.

The fact that she was now talking about returning to Hogwarts suggested to him that Hermione was trying to bury what had happened to her and ignore it rather than work through and come to terms with it, and that wouldn’t be good for her or anyone else she knew in the long run, especially if she was still having trouble with her mood swings.   

But now Hermione had asked for his help and although he had misgivings about her request Arthur found himself unable to turn it down, knowing that if she was right this was what she needed to bring her closure and maybe even the return of her happiness.

‘Are you sure you want to go through with this, Hermione?’ he asked anxiously.

Hermione stared at him for several long seconds, her downcast eyes capturing his, then she nodded.

‘I have to,’ she told him, her voice no higher than a murmur. ‘I have problems—’ She broke off for a moment as if upset, but after taking a deep breath to steady herself she continued. ‘Sometimes I don’t sleep too well, and sometimes I feel—’ She sighed. ‘Sorry, Mr Weasley but I don’t seem to be able to express myself properly . . . another of the problems, I’m afraid.’

She picked up her teacup and took a sip of her tea. Arthur noticed her hand was shaking.

‘Hermione?’ 

She waved her hand dismissively. ‘I’m fine, honestly I am, but I really need to do this otherwise I don’t think it’s ever going to end for me . . . and it’s not like I can leave it for another few months, is it?’ Hermione looked up from her cup, once again staring into Arthur’s eyes, beseechingly this time. ‘You do understand, don’t you, Mr Weasley?’

Arthur gave a brisk nod. ‘Yes, I think I do.’ He finished his tea and returned the cup to the saucer. He smiled at her as he pulled out his money bag and fished out a few coins, leaving them next to the teapot. ‘Whenever you’re ready, then.’

Hermione deposited her own cup on the table then stood, the first proper smile Arthur had seen her give in a long time settling on her face.

‘No time like the present,’ she said cheerfully.

The smile was false, as was the carefree manner she was trying hard to effect. The truth was that she was terrified as the madly swooping butterflies reminded her as she followed Mr Weasley towards the lift.

‘Is it possible for me to go in there alone?’ she petitioned quietly once they were outside the door they needed.

Arthur stared at her sharply, worried about her request.

‘Why would you want to go alone?’ he asked with a frown.

‘There are things . . . things I’ve never told anyone about, but I need to discuss them if I ever want to get past this place in my life,’ Hermione admitted. ‘I can’t talk about them if anyone else is there.’

Arthur sighed and rubbed his forehead, his brow furrowed with anxiety.

‘You know I shouldn’t let you go in there alone,’ he said.

Hermione laid her hand on his arm. ‘Please, Mr Weasley. I promise I’ll come back out if it gets too much for me, but I _really_ need to do this alone.

Arthur deliberated for a few seconds, then gave one brief nod.

‘Okay. I’ll let you go in alone. But if you start to feel upset or if there’s an uncomfortable atmosphere or whatever, you need to come out straight away, do you understand, Hermione?’

‘Of course I do. I’m here to help myself, not to injure myself further,’ Hermione assured him.

Arthur’s hand was on the doorknob now. ‘Don’t stay in there too long, whatever happens.’

‘I won’t need to,’ Hermione said.

Arthur used his free hand to remove the sealing charm on the room, then twisted the knob and opened the door. He watched as Hermione entered, slowly and seeming full of trepidation. He had the urge to enter with her, to keep her safe from the madman within, but he had promised to allow her to do this alone and he would not break a promise.

He pulled the door closed, shivering as he caught sight of the blond man within whose eyes glinted with fevered pleasure as he welcomed Hermione into his domain.

‘Hermione! Oh, my darling—’

The door closed with a clunk.

Arthur was already wishing he hadn’t agreed to let Hermione visit Lucius Malfoy at all, let alone on her own. The sooner the bloody man was transferred to Azkaban the better it would be for everyone, including her. He glanced at his watch, wanting to make sure she didn’t spend more than ten minutes in there. Surely that would be more than sufficient time for her to say what needed to be said, wouldn’t it?

He debated for a moment, then put the sealing charm back on the room before walking away, heading rapidly for the men’s toilet. He would only be gone for a few minutes and despite what she had promised him, Arthur knew Hermione wouldn’t leave until she sorted things out in her own mind, however much she may feel like she should, so it would be safe enough to leave her like that.

Once ten minutes was up Arthur knocked on the door, then opened it immediately, unsure of what he was about to find. Lucius was still sitting in the same position as when Hermione had first arrived, his gaze completely focussed on her and nothing else, and Arthur found it chilling. Hermione was seated opposite Lucius, staring back at him just as intently although she had a frown on her face.

‘It’s time to go, Hermione,’ he said quietly, touching her shoulder.

Hermione jumped as if she hadn’t realised he was there, so deep was her concentration on her former captor. She looked up at Arthur and nodded, then stood.

‘Well, goodbye, Lucius,’ she said quietly.

‘Hermione, please—’ Lucius broke off and turned, instead, to Arthur.

Pleadingly, he asked, ‘Weasley, can’t you give us just a few more minutes alone? Please, take pity on a poor sinner.’

Arthur stared at him with distaste for a second, then turned to Hermione. ‘Are you ready to leave?’

She nodded, seeming unable to speak. He noticed her cheeks were flushed and she looked as if she was about to cry.

‘Time’s up, Malfoy.’ He guided Hermione towards the door, then turned to look at the obviously upset man. ‘Enjoy your stint in Azkaban, won’t you? This time you won’t be able to escape, so you’re going to finally do your time.’

Lucius stared back at him, imperious now, a malicious smile crossing his lips. ‘At least I won’t have to see you or any of the rest of your insufferable family, Weasley.’

Arthur flushed, a retort springing automatically to his lips but he managed to bite it back knowing Lucius was merely goading him. He followed Hermione out of the door and slammed it shut, reinstating the sealing charm with a satisfied smile.

In another hour Lucius Malfoy would be transported across the North Sea to the inhospitable prison called Azkaban, where he would spend the next twenty-five years serving a sentence for which he was long overdue.

Arthur honestly thought it couldn’t happen to anyone more deserving.

They returned to the Atrium and Arthur bought Hermione another cup of tea. The two of them waited in silence as the waiter brought it to them.

‘Are you okay?’ Arthur asked anxiously.

Hermione nodded and said softly, ‘At least he apologised.’

Arthur realised she was crying, twin trails of tears sliding down her face as she stirred her tea again and again, almost as if she was an automaton. He reached out to take the teaspoon from her, replacing it with a handkerchief he pulled from his pocket. Hermione dabbed at her eyes just as automatically as she had used the spoon.

After a considerable pause, Arthur enquired, ‘Did it help, do you think?’

Hermione looked steadily at him for several more long seconds.

‘I’m not sure,’ she admitted.

‘Maybe it’s time for you to see a counsellor now?’ Arthur suggested tentatively.

Hermione shook her head, looking peevish. ‘No. I don’t need that.’ She sighed, then said less angrily, ‘I’m not entirely sure what I do need, Mr Weasley but I don’t think counselling is the answer.’ She took a sip of her tea and gave him a small grin. ‘I just need to get back to Hogwarts and the school Library. No doubt the answer to my problem is in there somewhere, probably towards the back of the Restricted Section.’

Arthur watched her fondly as he drank his own tea, knowing there was nothing further he could say. Hermione wanted to go back to school and despite his concerns, there was no way he could stop her. He wasn’t her father and had no legal right to interfere in her life. All he could do was offer support, and that he had already done and would continue to do.

Perhaps he was worrying unnecessarily and for Hermione school really was the answer. He could only hope so and be ready to pick up the pieces if it turned out not to be what she needed. At least Minerva would be able to keep an eye on her and Poppy could provide help with the nightmares if they got too much — even they couldn’t beat a Dreamless Sleep potion.

‘Are you going to go and visit Harry and Ron while you’re here?’ he asked once it was clear Hermione had finished her tea.

She shook her head. ‘No. I don’t think they’re in today. Harry was saying something about some big raid they were all working on.’

Arthur smiled. ‘I have absolutely no idea what those two are up to since they moved out of the Burrow. I can’t keep track of them.’

‘Me neither. To be honest, I’m feeling a bit worn out now although I know that sounds stupid. I think I was so wound up about seeing Lucius again that now it’s over I just feel . . . oh, I don’t know, I can’t explain it,’ Hermione said.

‘You don’t have to,’ Arthur said kindly. ‘I understand exactly what you mean. Are you going to go back to the Burrow, then?’

Hermione shook her head. ‘I thought I’d go to Diagon Alley first, as I’m up here. I can get my school stuff and have a browse through the shops. I’ll be back in time for tea, though, so if you get there before me tell Mrs Weasley not to worry.’

Arthur stood up when Hermione did. She came round the table and gave him a hug that he was happy to return.

‘Thank you, Mr Weasley,’ she said quietly. ‘Thank you for everything.’

‘You’re quite welcome, Hermione,’ Arthur said sincerely.


	7. PART TWO - CHAPTER ONE

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hi everyone. Thank you for sticking with me. I know it’s not been the most upbeat of stories so far so I’m grateful if you’ve made it this far. This second part moves the story on a few years once Hermione has, supposedly, recovered from her ordeal at Malfoy Manor. As you’re shortly about to discover it hasn’t, alas, all gone smoothly.
> 
> I need to put a warning up that this chapter contains references to alcoholism, self-harm and suicidal behaviour, so if this is likely to affect you please don’t read it.
> 
> Thank you once again for your continued support. Also, thanks to my wonderful beta, Mamacita. Dx

 

Hermione groaned painfully as she opened her eyes, fighting against the bright mid-summer sunshine that was streaming into her bedroom. She had obviously forgotten to close the curtains last night and was now paying the price for that omission. Only just awake, and still groggy, her stomach was roiling and the whole room was swaying despite the fact that she was still lying down.

_Oh god, she was going to be sick_.

She forced herself into an upright position and launched herself off the bed, crying out as pain pounded through her head. Her hands grabbed her skull and squeezed tightly as she lumbered slowly out of her bedroom and along the corridor towards the small bathroom, blinking as she tried hard to focus.

Whimpering, she released her head to put her hand over her mouth instead. The vomit was already rising, threatening to erupt before she made it to the toilet. Legs still rickety, Hermione tripped over the carpet and landed on her knees with another groan that turned into a retch as she loosed a stream of sick, her head down, almost lying on the floor, her hair trailing in the lumpy puddle as her stomach twitched again and again, more gushes of puke released with each contraction.

She was crying now, too, and it made her hiccup as still she retched, unable to stop the seemingly never-ending torrent that was now just stinging acidic bile as that was all that was left in her stomach. She was covered in it yet she couldn’t seem to move, even though she urgently needed some water if only to allow her to continue to throw up rather than dry-heave as she was now doing.

Feeling supremely sorry for herself, Hermione crawled towards the bathroom, not noticing or caring that she was wading through the puddle of vomit. She was focussed only on getting to the sink and some water, needing to rinse out her mouth, but it was slow progress when she was so unsteady.

Finally reaching the bathroom, Hermione clung to the pedestal of the basin, her forehead resting on the blessed coolness of the ceramic for a few seconds as she tried to ease the hammer-fall in her head before attempting to drag herself upright. She reached to turn on the cold tap and quickly rinsed her vomit-covered hands of the worst of it, then cupped them to get some of the cold water, bringing it to her lips as if it was the first drink she had ever had.

She swallowed greedily, not getting much as she was shaking and her fingers were uncoordinated; she was spilling more than she was holding onto, the escaping cold water splashing onto her body as it drained away. Immediately her stomach twitched, almost rejecting the small amount she had succeeded in swallowing, but she managed to stop herself from being sick again. She used a second and third handful to rinse her mouth, snorting as she did so to get the remaining bile out of her nose. Finally, she drank another few handfuls of water — enough to ease the sore burning feeling from the stomach acid in her throat.

Hermione groaned again. She felt absolutely dreadful but knew she wasn’t going to be sick again, at least not right away. She pulled some toilet paper from the holder and used it to blow her nose and wipe her damp eyes. Then she lifted her head, the bright light stinging as she turned her rheumy, bloodshot eyes towards the mirror and surveyed herself with dismay.

The face that stared back at her was clammy and grey, gaunt and haggard-looking, and covered with lumps of vomit. It was all over her face and in her hair, which was currently not exploding everywhere as was normally the case but hung limp and greasy. She was still wearing her makeup, too, apparently having been too tired — or more honestly, too drunk — to remove it before she collapsed into bed. She looked like a particularly scary clown, her pale skin accentuated by dark-rimmed eyes, a mixture of the remaining eyeshadow, mascara and eyeliner sliding down her face. Her mouth was a red gash, the lipstick smeared across half her face.

Hermione groaned a third time and rubbed her sore, tired eyes as she tried to get past the raging headache and get her brain into gear.

First things first. She needed coffee, strong coffee, and a heavy-duty painkiller wouldn’t go amiss, either. Not caring that she looked a mess and was still covered in vomit or that she was naked, Hermione wandered out of the bathroom, this time just about managing to avoid the puddle of sick, and headed for the kitchen.

As she went she noticed the clothing that had been abandoned, a trail leading from the lounge to her bedroom. She didn’t pick it up, her head still in too much pain to bend down. She needed to sort herself out before she could do anything about her flat.

The state of the lounge came as rather an unpleasant surprise, too. Hermione was unable to remember what had happened to cause the carnage that greeted her now. It looked like a fight had taken place but as far as she could remember she had been alone last night — just as she always was.

Pain drove her past the mess in the lounge and through to the small kitchen, which also looked like a bomb had hit it, with cupboards and drawers open all over the place as if she had been urgently looking for something. As she made her way over to the cupboard containing the first aid box, Hermione automatically closed the doors as she went.

She pulled out the box and carried it to the table via the coffee machine, hoping that today wasn’t going to be the day when the magic made it malfunction. She desperately needed a pot of the strongest coffee she could brew and it would be sod’s law that the machine would break when she needed it so badly. Hermione suspected that if that happened it would be the final straw — that it would be enough to break her with the condition she was currently in.

Once the machine seemed to be working properly, a steady if slight stream of strong black coffee draining into the glass container, Hermione sat at the table with the first aid box open and rummaged through it trying to decide what to take to ease the pain and push away the twin feelings of nausea and fatigue.

After a few minutes of indecision and some quiet moaning at the headache that still pounded away, she finally decided on a pain-relieving potion and a stomach-calming draught. Hermione unstoppered both bottles, her hands still shaking uncontrollably as she tried to pour the required amount into a spoon. Sighing with frustration, she gave up and instead took the medicine directly from the bottle, not really caring whether she had taken too much.

The coffee was now ready and Hermione grabbed a large mug and filled it almost to the brim with the steaming dark liquid, the slightly acrid aroma hitting her nostrils as she carried it back to the table. She considered for a moment, then added several heaped teaspoons of sugar to the mug. Normally she drank her coffee black and unsweetened, but with the way she felt right now, still shaking and weak, she knew she needed the sugar to give her a quick boost. She took a mouthful of the ultra-sweet coffee and shuddered.

Hermione closed her eyes and waited for the pain to subside. It wouldn’t take long; the potions she had taken were good ones and had helped her many times in the past. She sat quietly, sipping the coffee and felt some life come back into her, the pain slowly melting away as her energy level increased. Soon she would be able to face the day — or at least the outcome of the previous night.

She started on her second mug of coffee, this one taken straight with no sugar as she didn’t want to end up crashing because of a glucose rush. Hermione looked around the room, surveying the scene as she tried to remember what she had been looking for so diligently. She couldn’t see anything obvious although she suspected it was probably the corkscrew — being completely slaughtered wouldn’t have stopped her from craving more alcohol, especially if she’d had a bad evening.

The problem was that last night was currently something of a blur; there were quite large parts of it that she couldn’t remember at all, the huge amount of alcohol consumption having caused a complete blackout. Hermione had no memory of returning to the flat or anything that had happened subsequently. She knew she should be scared by this, her memory completely erased because of her alcoholic excess, but she found it hard to care. It happened so often these days that it was almost normal.

Two cups of coffee had their natural effect on Hermione and she had to hurry to the loo, trying to ignore the mess that surrounded her wherever she walked. She would deal with it eventually but not until later, not until she was fully recovered and could tackle the cleaning without it making her feel nauseated again. The third mug of coffee and the last of a packet of biscuits Hermione found at the back of a cupboard joined her in the lounge, where she shifted a pile of paperwork from the sofa so she could sit down.

Finally, she was beginning to feel human again although still somewhat fragile. She pulled a biscuit from the packet and took an experimental bite, hoping her stomach wouldn’t reject the nourishment as she was now absolutely starving and the biscuits were the only food she had in the flat.

Hermione couldn’t remember the last time she had gone shopping. It was a long time since food had been important to her as anything other than fuel to keep her going, and these days she ate little more than a bird. Mrs Weasley was forever chiding her for being so thin and for not taking care of herself properly but she couldn’t get excited about eating, couldn’t actually get excited about anything much if she was honest. 

She knew it was a symptom of her depression — knew, too, that she should be worried about the fact that it had taken such a hold of her again — but Hermione was still stubbornly trying to convince herself that there was nothing wrong, that she was coping admirably with the shitty life she had been dealt. Anyway, there was no way she was as bad as she had been three years before.

Back then she had hit rock bottom. Unable to cope any longer and not wanting to have to deal with the pain and anxiety that dogged her every step, she had finally reached the stage where insanity overwhelmed reason. She had made lists incessantly, comparing the reasons she should stay alive with the ones that proved it would be better if she was dead, watching as the negative slowly overwhelmed the positive.

Hermione was tempted to blame Ron for what had happened but she knew that wasn’t fair. He hadn’t forced her to attempt to take her own life, she had made that decision and taken steps to achieve it all on her own, even though he and yet another stupid argument between them had been the catalyst for her rapid transition from merely being severely depressed into full-out suicidal.

She hadn’t succeeded, obviously, thanks to Harry and Ginny who had come to visit her, worried about her state of mind in the aftermath of the argument. They had found her in time, and although she still honestly wished they hadn’t, had taken her to St Mungo’s where the hospital had worked hard to save her life.

Hermione had spent almost six months in the hospital, the Healers unwilling to release her until she could prove to them that her depression was, if not completely cured, at least being held in abeyance for the time being and that her urge to harm herself was gone. It was an exceedingly difficult time, especially during the first month after the attempt. Hermione really didn’t believe she should be alive and wasting everyone’s time and she had retreated into herself, refusing to communicate with anyone, wanting nothing more than to drift away.

She had been assigned a counsellor and finally had to talk for the first time since her release about how her experience at the hands of Lucius Malfoy had moulded her life in the time since. They had tried to convince her that failure to deal with her emotions at the time had been the root cause of her breakdown. It had been a particularly horrible time for Hermione as she had to think and talk about the blond Death Eater, someone she had tried to put out of her mind completely once he had gone to Azkaban.

Hermione wasn’t sure she believed the counsellors but she obediently attended every session she was required to go through and took every potion they prescribed, and eventually, she was pronounced well enough to go home.

Immediately, she upset everyone by refusing to go and stay at the Burrow where Molly could look after her. Instead, she returned to the small, isolated flat she had insisted on renting once she started working at the Ministry of Magic after leaving Hogwarts. She returned to work, assuring everyone that she was now perfectly okay, and had spent every day since then trying to convince herself that this was true.

It wasn't perfect by any stretch of the imagination and several times depression had threatened to overwhelm her again. But her friends were excellent at spotting when Hermione was heading for a fall and propped her up until she was back on an even keel. She even tried to rekindle her still-hopeful relationship with Ron, unsuccessfully, but they were getting on better than they had done for years and their friendship was pretty solid again.

Hermione sighed. Although she still couldn’t remember a lot about last night there was something nasty nagging away inside her that suggested she had done something to threaten that friendship once again. She closed her eyes and tried to think back over the previous day, determined to work out what had happened.

It had been a good day to start with, Hermione could remember that much. Harry and Ginny were getting married and she was a bridesmaid, while Ron was Harry’s best man. She and Ginny had spent the evening before the wedding at the Burrow with various other female friends and relatives putting finishing touches to the preparations for the big day and having a wedding shower while Harry was taken by Ron and his copious number of siblings and their friends to the local pub for a final evening of freedom.

Hermione’s drinking hadn’t been too excessive that night as she was with other people although she had still got drunk enough to proposition Charlie on his return from the pub. She frowned. Actually, now she thought about it, Charlie wasn’t the only man she had flirted with but he was the one she had ended up having sex with — a fast and furious encounter up against the side of Arthur’s shed that had been more for relief than enjoyment.

For a moment she wondered whether last night’s problems had been because of Charlie, but deep inside she knew they weren’t — there was only one person who could have driven her into the state she had found herself in this morning. While she knew Charlie had enjoyed what they had done every bit as much as she, he wasn’t looking for a girlfriend and she had already known that.

Anyway, no one had known about the two of them disappearing off for ten minutes when the sly touches and blatant innuendos had stoked them both into a frenzy of tipsy excitement. Hermione smiled. Charlie had been good, though, and if there was ever another chance to get him into bed she would certainly take it.

George had also been on her radar, Hermione remembered that now, too, with another frown. He had quietened down considerably in the years after his twin’s death and she couldn’t help but feel rather sorry for him as, like her, he seemed to have lost all the joy in his life. However, George hadn’t been in the mood for Hermione’s games, instead wanting to talk with his father and Bill, so she had given up with him and moved onto Charlie.

The best thing about Charlie was that he was a big burly man, far more used to dealing with dragons than women, so he had been rough; too rough for most women, Hermione imagined, but she had enjoyed it. It was the only way she knew — hard and sometimes painful — and it hadn’t bothered her that Charlie wasn’t really interested in anything gentler.

She made it to the wedding, and everything had been just right. The weather was a perfect English summer day — not too hot, but with bright sunshine and clear blue skies, the occasional small fluffy white cloud scudding as a gentle breeze blew it along. The garden of the Burrow was beautifully decorated with lots of large, sweet-smelling roses in pink and white and a huge marquee ready to house the guests for the post-wedding celebrations.

Ginny looked stunning in her wedding robe, Harry was as handsome as she had ever seen him in his formal robes, and Ron — well, Ron looked more alluring than ever in a matching outfit to Harry's. Hermione thought about her own outfit. She had gone to so much trouble to make sure she wouldn’t let her friends down, not going anywhere near the alcohol until well after she had dressed and done her makeup.

She’d had a glass of champagne with Ginny just before the wedding started, then she had preceded her friend and Mr Weasley onto the lawn, moving away to stand with Ron during the ceremony. The wedding breakfast was pleasant enough but she had to concede it was possible that she had drunk a little too much wine with the meal.

Hermione went back into the kitchen to retrieve the last of the now well-stewed coffee. She could remember the afternoon well enough, the speeches and the laughter, the cutting of the cake and the move into the evening party with the first dance. She dropped back onto the sofa, that nervous tugging in her stomach again.

That was where it had all gone wrong, Hermione thought. She had been quite well lubricated by the time the evening guests had arrived and her mood had begun to slip into melancholy. There was something about seeing Harry and Ginny so happy in each other’s arms that made her feel isolated and alone. Meeting Luna’s new boyfriend Rolf and seeing Neville with his fiancée Hannah had only increased her sense of loneliness. 

Charlie was pleasant but distant all afternoon, doing nothing to encourage her company and making it clear to Hermione that their previous intimacy had been but a fleeting moment between them. As the evening went on Hermione continued drinking at a steady pace and her sense of isolation continued to swell as her need for affection battled with her need to remain in control.

Hermione groaned out loud and put her head in her hands, almost ready to sob. Oh gods, she had just remembered what she had done. She closed her eyes, praying for a moment that she was mistaken, but as she reopened them she knew she wasn’t. As mortifying as the thought was, she had severely embarrassed herself in front of everyone at the reception.

Nausea rose within her again as she remembered, a wave of disgust for herself and her idiotic behaviour welling up as tears were now welling in her eyes. Gods, she was so stupid. Thanks to her, Harry and Ginny’s wedding day had been completely and utterly ruined. They must absolutely hate her. Worse still, even if by some miracle they didn’t, Hermione knew without a shadow of a doubt that Ron detested her now.

She had seen a trace of it in his expression just before she was dragged away, screaming. She still wasn’t entirely sure what had happened to set her off, but it definitely had something to do with Ron — of course it did, everything in her life was to do with Ron.

Hermione swallowed the last of the coffee with a grimace and picked up the bottle of brandy she had retrieved from the cupboard earlier, the one she had apparently been spiking the coffee with, and tipped a large measure into the mug, taking a gulp of it before turning her mind back to the reception.

She knew she had been feeling alone and unloved in the face of all the romance going on around her, and once Charlie made it clear he wasn’t interested in a rematch she had returned to her original and undying passion — Ronald Weasley.

Hermione had been more than drunk enough by then to summon up the courage to confront him, determined to show him that she was his perfect match and he was crazy for not following up on all her attempts to connect with him over the last few years. She was absolutely certain that by the end of the evening — or better still, by the following morning — she would have convinced him that they should be a couple.

She realised she was crying now, huge wracking sobs of pain as she remembered what had happened next; how she had completely ruined both her best friends’ wedding and her life. She took another mouthful of the fortifying brandy.

Ron was in the middle of the dance floor talking to Harry and Ginny when Hermione intruded upon them, far drunker than she realised. Ginny, worried about her friend considering the state she was in, tried to lead her away back to the house where she could have a coffee and sober up a bit, but Hermione was having none of it.

Instead, she launched herself at Ron, her voice a loud wail as she declared her undying love for him and demanded to know why he had been acting so meanly towards her. Embarrassed at the whole situation, Ron tried to calm Hermione down and Harry joined Ginny in trying to remove her. But Hermione was in full meltdown and had no eyes for anyone but Ron.

Until she spotted that he wasn’t alone.

Hidden by the way the group were standing, it took Hermione a couple of minutes to work out that Ron was holding someone’s hand. Her surprise turned to shock, swiftly followed, thanks to her drunken state, by grief as the woman came into view and she recognised his old and apparently new sweetheart, Lavender Brown.

Ron looked disconcerted at Hermione’s realisation that he was with someone else, but that turned to anger when Hermione, seemingly against all sensible reason, launched an attack on his girlfriend. He stepped between them, seeking initially to calm the situation, but his anger soon flared at Hermione’s criticisms and it turned into another of their regular arguments but with far more venom than he had ever previously expressed.

She slapped him hard across the face and was looking likely to attack Lavender, too, her drunkenness having rendered her completely insensible. It took Harry, George and Bill to pull her off her quarry and manhandle her out of the marquee and back towards the house, Ginny trailing along unhappily beside her broken and screaming friend, while Mr and Mrs Weasley hurriedly tried to calm the rest of the guests.

Hermione had been overwhelmed by what was happening. She was too drunk and too devastated by what had happened with Ron to understand or even care at that moment that she had ruined the reception, and she couldn’t stand the look of reproach on her friends' faces as they dragged her inside the Burrow.

Ginny went to put on the kettle, intending to make her a coffee, but before it was anywhere near boiled Hermione was arguing with everyone, completely ignoring all attempts to calm her down. Feeling suddenly persecuted and unfairly pilloried by her friends, Hermione grabbed some Floo powder from the flower pot near the fireplace and stepped in, mumbling a destination that no one managed to hear.

Hermione stared unhappily at the brandy in her mug. She remembered Flooing away from the Burrow although now she was relatively sober she couldn’t believe she had been stupid enough to even attempt it in that state. At least she hadn’t tried to Apparate. The way she was feeling this morning she didn’t even want to think about what might have happened to her had she tried that.

Then again, she had always been very good at deluding herself and she knew she hadn’t thought herself anywhere near as drunk as she actually was when she left the wedding. That was proved by the fact that she hadn’t gone straight home but chose instead, to visit some real dive of a pub near Diagon Alley, needing what she considered a ‘proper’ drink to get over her disappointment with Ron.

It never once occurred to her that her leaving might have worried her friends and that they were panicking about not being able to find her. Instead, already completely slaughtered and now convinced that everyone she knew hated her, Hermione had rolled into the bar, demanded a drink from the slightly wary barman, then proceeded to flirt outrageously with every man who came anywhere near her.

Hermione’s brain was considerably less clear on what had happened next, but she vaguely remembered that at one point she was in a dark alley outside the pub with two . . . or was it three men she had been chatting with? Apart from a few brief and somewhat disturbing flashes of memory she had no idea what they had done and didn’t think she ought to dwell on it too hard.

She couldn’t remember leaving the bar or the alleyway nor arriving home although she had clearly managed it somehow, and seemingly without any of the men in tow. Her memory had come back sufficiently that she now remembered why her lounge was such a mess. That was after still more alcohol — the reason her kitchen had been ransacked; when she should have already been rendered unconscious but was somehow still going and still drinking.

After hours of completely forgetting all about the wedding and Ron, Hermione had suddenly and violently remembered the whole sorry episode, most importantly that he was happy and holding hands with Lavender. Enraged by this thought, Hermione had lost her temper and thrown the cushion next to her on the sofa across the room. It hadn’t had quite the effect she had hoped for so she had thrown something else.

Crying out in fury and pain, she had set to work pulling books from shelves and hurling them across the room, hitting the wall and other ornaments, now too far gone both in grief and intemperance to stop herself from attempting to demolish her living room. She had obviously stopped at some point and gone to bed, but that too had disappeared into the blank area that inhabited her brain where memory should have been.

Now that she remembered, Hermione felt numb as if she had been clubbed by a heavy object and she was sitting there with a concussion, having no idea what to do next. She put down the mug, pushing it away from her across the coffee table, suddenly aware that she had already drunk the best part of half a bottle of brandy and it wasn’t even halfway through the morning.

As she continued to sit there Hermione forced herself to make plans, a list forming in her mind. Lists were good. She knew where she was with a list. She needed to clean herself up and then she needed to clean up the flat. Hopefully, occupying herself like that would stop her from moping and feeling sorry for herself — and from dwelling on her latest derailment with Ron.

Once that was done she needed to go shopping and buy herself some real food including fruit and vegetables, which would help to make her feel better. No more alcohol, though. She had to cut down on the drinking because that definitely _wasn’t_ helping to make her feel better. But even as she thought it her hand was reaching for the mug once more, an automatic reaction to the pain still twinging in her heart at what Ron had done to her.

Hermione grabbed a quill. She needed to make a new list, a better list, the most important list she would ever make. She grabbed a piece of parchment from the top of the stack she had moved from the sofa and glanced at it for a moment before turning it over and creating two headings: live and die. 

She paused once she had completed a few items on the list, stopping only to put more brandy into her mug. Having taken a large and fortifying mouthful she continued with the list, adding line after line to the tally on the right-hand side as the left stayed resolutely empty.

Finally finished, Hermione stopped to read over her handiwork, nodding to herself as she checked she was right. There could be no doubt. After the mess she had made of Harry and Ginny’s wedding reception she had lost her last friends. There really was no reason for her to continue living now. Tears poured down her cheeks as she read, not upset for herself but for all those people she had hurt by continuing to exist.

If she had only died three years ago, Harry and Ginny would have had the perfect wedding day not ruined by some pathetic alcoholic who lived only to drink and have nasty rough sex with wildly unsuitable partners she met in squalid pubs. At least this time there wouldn’t be anyone to stop her from doing what she knew to be right. She had no friends, no family; she was totally alone and deserved to be unhappy because she was a complete and utter waste of space.

Hermione looked around her at the wreckage of her semi-demolished lounge. That was why she had broken everything — to rid herself of the ties to her life. She could go, free and unencumbered, no doubt in her mind that this was the right decision.

Dropping the paper onto the coffee table, Hermione added another slug of brandy to the mug, then headed out of the lounge and towards the bathroom. She was sure she was ready, the list proved it, but just to be certain . . . .

She found the razor blade where she had stored it only a few days earlier, staring at it for a few seconds as she sat on the toilet and waited for the bath to fill with hot water. She could just make a few cuts while she was waiting, just enough to ease the pain, to get rid of the overwhelmingly crippling feeling inside her. It would free her to do what needed to be done.

Hermione stared at her arms, the pale criss-cross pattern of scars that she normally kept covered up in long-sleeved tops running up and down them, the trellis-like pattern still standing out despite her current paleness. She bit her bottom lip, then brushed the razor blade across her left arm, a short hiss of pain and relief escaping her as the wickedly sharp steel caused an immediate welling of blood. She watched it bead for a moment before drawing a second line, this one making an X pattern with the first, perfectly centred within her trellis.

As the blood dripped Hermione continued cutting and a second X appeared on her other arm, a mirror image of the first. She stopped, her head swimming for a moment as the alcohol enhanced by the adrenaline of exhilaration raced through her body, chasing away the pain. She looked at the bath. There was more than enough water now.

She turned off the taps and swirled her hands in the water, checking to make sure it wasn’t too hot. The blood ran down her arms and into the bath, the water turning a pale shade of pink wherever it landed. She added cold water and checked to make sure it was exactly the right temperature.

Placing the razor blade on the side of the bath she climbed in, glancing for only a second at the recent set of scars on her thighs, not yet healed, before sinking beneath the warm water. She enjoyed the feel of it coating her body, even as it made her new wounds sting.

Hermione lay back and closed her eyes, image after image flitting into her brain like a cine camera on fast speed; her life played out in double time — images, good and bad, almost transporting her to a different plane of awareness.

Faster and faster they came now, the good images ripped away by bad ones: the look on Ron’s face when she tried to attack Lavender; her parents lying dead on the floor of her childhood home; the arguing and shouting in the kitchen of the Burrow; the months of torture and abuse she had undergone with Lucius; and finally, and unsurprisingly, the look on Ron’s face when she first saw him in the hospital after her rescue — those accusing eyes that had ruined any hope Hermione had ever had of a happy future.

It was time.

Opening her eyes, Hermione picked up the razor blade. With completely dry eyes she placed it against her left wrist, ready to draw it up vertically, not horizontally.

The sharp blade bit and Hermione smiled.


	8. PART TWO - CHAPTER TWO

As soon as Hermione had disappeared via the Floo, Harry Apparated to her flat, hoping she was sensible enough to go home even if she couldn’t say it properly, although having seen the state of her he suspected that wasn’t what had happened. It took only a couple of minutes to confirm that Hermione was nowhere in the vicinity so he returned to the Burrow and a now anxious Ginny.

She had used the time Harry was away to try to calm herself down, knowing that although she was angry with Hermione at the moment, it would soon pass. Deep in her heart, Ginny was certain their friend hadn’t purposely set out to ruin her and Harry’s big day. She knew Hermione had never really recovered from what Lucius Malfoy had put her through, however much she had tried to pretend otherwise over the years.

Her steadily increasing reliance on alcohol and the ridiculously unsafe sexual situations she regularly put herself into, which Ginny was sure was linked to her past troubles, was getting out of hand and needed to be curbed. It was something she had already decided she, Harry and Ron needed to have a frank and serious discussion about, but now they needed to do it sooner rather than later. They had to decide on the best way to support Hermione through the detox she so badly needed.

Ginny knew it wasn’t just Hermione’s past she was battling with but also her unrequited desire for Ron, and she had no idea what they could do about that. Unfortunately, during her captivity Hermione seemed to have latched onto Ginny’s brother as her saviour despite his being about as useful as a chocolate fireguard. She might just as well have chosen Charlie for all the emotion either of them emitted.

It was bad timing that Ron had got back together with Lavender just in time for the wedding, and neither she nor Harry had been happy about his neglecting to mention it to Hermione beforehand. Ginny could understand why her brother hadn’t wanted to, having seen Hermione in action just now but at the same time, she was pretty sure the situation would never have occurred in the first place had he only warned Hermione in advance that he had a new girlfriend.  

Panic began to set in when Harry returned and had to admit that Hermione was nowhere to be found. Of course, it might just be that she was so drunk she had said the name of the Floo destination wrong, but Merlin only knew where she had ended up and what state she was in when she got there.

Harry and Ginny made the decision to end the reception, knowing that finding their devastated friend was far more important than any party, especially considering her fragile state of mind and her current inebriated condition. As the guests returned home the whole Weasley family, barring Mrs Weasley who stayed behind as coordinator, began to search, beginning first with the more obvious places and then, as the night went on and Hermione was still nowhere to be found, checking out some of the less salubrious establishments she had been known to frequent rather more regularly than she should.

By the time dawn came they regrouped back at the Burrow to drink strong tea and eat bacon sandwiches prepared by Mrs Weasley as they sifted through what they had discovered, growing ever more maudlin as no one had turned up anything of any use.

But then Bill arrived, the last to return, with news from a pub near Diagon Alley where Hermione had been drinking for at least an hour or so after she left the reception. The barman hadn’t been much help about where the ‘slaughtered bint’, as he had called her, had gone after leaving the pub although he remembered she had left with three men — willingly as far as he could tell, and no, he didn’t know if they were Muggles or wizards, both frequented the seedy establishment that rested on the cusp of both worlds. 

The fact that Hermione hadn’t been alone raised mixed feelings within the group between those who were hopeful that Hermione’s new friends would help her when they realised how drunk she was and those who knew the sort of men Hermione tended to pick up and were suddenly terrified that she had been raped and murdered or beaten to a pulp and left in a dark alley somewhere.

Finally Mr Weasley, always the voice of reason, suggested they try Hermione’s home once more in case she had returned there after her sojourn with her new friends. No one had checked there since the early hours of the morning and it was quite possible she had returned there later.

Ginny insisted on going with Harry this time, as did Ron, whose feelings for Hermione had been further complicated by this latest derailment, and it was the three of them that found her in the bath, already unconscious, the last of her precious lifeblood draining away from the ugly great gashes on her wrists and inner forearms.

While Harry attempted to stop the bleeding, praying that he was in time to save Hermione’s life, Ron Apparated to the entrance of St Mungo’s, desperate to get help and blood replenishing solutions for his friend. By the time he returned with two Healers, named Fawley and Shelton, and supplies of their best potions Harry and Ginny had got Hermione out of the bath and into a nightdress, her face scrubbed clean of the makeup and vomit that made her look like some sort of drug casualty.

The Healers worked on Hermione on the bathroom floor as Ginny, more scared than she had been in years, set about clearing up Hermione’s flat, needing the manual labour to take her mind off her friend who still lay dying on the bathroom floor. Ron, as pale as Ginny, left Harry with the Healers and went to make a cup of tea for everyone. Ginny showed him the three-quarters-empty bottle of brandy she had found.

‘Did she drink that last night?’ he asked, somewhat stunned at the quantity of alcohol Hermione had apparently managed to consume without killing herself from alcohol poisoning.

Ginny shrugged, looking unhappy. ‘I’m not sure. I think she might have drunk it this morning. There was a mug in the bathroom that looked like it had brandy in it. I found this as well.’

She handed Ron the parchment with Hermione’s list on it.

Ron sighed in despair as he read it. ‘Did you know she was this bad again?’

‘Obviously not,’ Ginny retorted. Then, less harshly, she added, ‘I knew her drinking had been increasing and she has been doing some really stupid things—’

Ron looked at her quizzically, wanting her to tell him the sort of things she meant.

‘I think Hermione’s really lonely,’ Ginny said unhappily, trying to be tactful, ‘but she’s trying to connect in the wrong places with the wrong people and it’s not working out for her.’ She lowered her voice although there was really no need to. ‘I blame bloody Lucius Malfoy for all of this.’

Ron pursed his lips as if to say something but Ginny shook her head, waving her hand in his face to stop him talking.

‘I know what you think but you’re wrong, Ron. There’s no way Hermione was complicit in what Lucius did to her.’

‘You don’t know that for sure. I mean, she’s never really talked to us about it, has she?’ Ron replied argumentatively, unhappy at being rebuked by his younger sibling.

Ginny’s eyes flashed angrily as she shot back, ‘As I recall, she tried to speak to you about it several times in the beginning but it always turned into an argument that Harry had to break up. It’s not really surprising she gave up considering how much pain it must have caused her to speak about it and how bloody insensitive you are.’

‘So it’s my fault now, is it?’ Ron growled. ‘I suppose you think it’s all _my_ fault that Hermione’s lying dying in the bathroom, too.’

Ginny went even paler. ‘She’s not going to die, Ron,’ she hissed.

She moved towards her brother, suddenly seeing his stricken face, and wrapped her arms around him, hugging him tightly. He hugged her back.

‘I don’t think it’s your fault — but you do, don’t you?’ she asked quietly.

‘What if she dies and our last conversation was a stupid argument?’ Ron asked thickly.

‘I told you, Hermione’s not going to die. We got to her in time.’

Ron released Ginny, moving back so he could look at her. ‘This time. What happens next time she tries it?’

‘We have to help her, to make sure there isn’t a next time,’ Ginny said fervently. ‘That’s going to mean you being a bit less judgemental about her. I know there’s nothing romantic between you anymore, at least not as far as you’re concerned, but Hermione still has feelings for you and you need to help her to let go gently, not treat her as if she’s got some disease. She was the victim, not the perpetrator, and you need to remember that when you’re dealing with her.’

‘I still say you don’t know for sure,’ Ron insisted, re-treading old ground in his determination not to admit that he might be wrong and had treated Hermione badly because of it. ‘You would think old Malfoy would have killed Hermione, being Muggle-born and him being a bloody Death Eater, but instead, he fucked her and looked after her.’

Ginny snorted indignantly. ‘ _He looked after her?_ Don’t you remember what she was like when she first came back? She was a complete mess. Dad said the medical history he read showed that she’d had life-threatening injuries at least a dozen times during her captivity — and she had a broken nose and two black eyes when she was rescued. I definitely wouldn’t call that looking after. You can hardly blame Hermione for wanting to stay alive and doing whatever she had to do to achieve that, Ron.’

‘I still think there’s something fishy about all that,’ Ron muttered looking uncomfortable.

Ginny shook her head, annoyance showing on her face. ‘I thought you were going to make tea? Hopefully, they’ll be finished shortly.’

She bent down and picked up a book, straightening some bent pages before closing it gently and placing it on the bookshelf. She picked up another and then a third, then bent down to carefully gather up an ornament that had been smashed and was lying under the last book. She placed the pieces of the ornament on the coffee table and waved her wand to mend it. Now there was a small statue of a schoolgirl carrying a pile of books.

Ginny picked it up to examine it, pleased to see that it had mended perfectly. She was glad because she knew Hermione would have been heartbroken if it hadn’t. Her friend had been given the little statue by her parents just before she left for her first day at Hogwarts, something to keep her company in case she was feeling lonely in a school so far away from home. Hermione had always kept it with her except during her incarceration at Malfoy Manor, and it was one of the first things she had retrieved when she finally had a chance to go through her parent's belongings after she had been released from the hospital after her rescue.

Ginny placed the little statue back on the table as Ron came through from the kitchen carrying a tray of mugs. She took one from him and sat down on the sofa as Ron went through to the bathroom.

‘How is she?’ he asked Harry quietly as he gave him a mug.

‘I don’t know,’ Harry admitted, his voice sounding raw. He looked drawn and anxious. ‘She’s still alive, which is something, at least.’

‘What are we going to do, Harry?’ Ron asked hollowly. He was still trying not to look at the two Healers who were working on Hermione.

Harry shook his head, unable to speak.

‘Is she on any medication?’ the Healer named Fawley asked.

Harry shook his head again. ‘No. But she was really drunk last night — I mean far drunker than you can imagine — so she might have alcohol in her system still.’

‘Looking at all the vomit around here I would say that she expelled most of it,’ Fawley said.

‘No. There’s brandy in that mug,’ Ron said, pointing to the large mug on the toilet cistern. ‘Ginny spotted it earlier and she found an almost empty brandy bottle in the lounge.’

‘So she may have drunk that this morning,’ Fawley suggested.

Ron shrugged. ‘Late last night or this morning, probably, but as Harry said she was completely slaughtered last night so that wasn’t likely to have worn off before she drank the brandy.’

The other Healer, Shelton had finished with his wand now. Hermione seemed to be wrapped in a cocoon of glowing orange light, hovering just above the floor.

‘She’s stable enough to move now,’ he told Harry and Ron.

‘Is she going to be okay?’ Harry asked anxiously as Ron offered the Healers mugs of tea.

‘To be honest, it’s too close to call at the moment,’ Fawley admitted.

‘You got to her just in time, though. Another couple of minutes and she would have been dead,’ Shelton added.

He indicated Hermione. ‘We’ve put her in a stasis bubble which means she won’t get any worse but she can’t recover, either. She has been given a blood replenishing potion but that won’t be able to work until stasis has been removed. The bubble will keep her safe until we get her to the hospital. Once there we’ll be able to monitor her to see exactly what damage she has done to herself. Assuming she hasn’t gone too far she should hopefully start responding to the treatment and will be much improved in a few days.’  

‘I wouldn’t expect her to come out of hospital anytime soon, though,’ Fawley told them honestly. ‘She’ll be kept in for an assessment of her mental stability which, judging by the other cuts on her body, she’ll fail. They won’t release her until they’re sure that she won’t be a danger to herself.’

Harry nodded. ‘I know, we’ve been through this before.’

Both Healers stared at him with sympathy.

Fawley asked, ‘She’s tried to kill herself before? When was that?’

‘About three years ago,’ Ron said. ‘She used a range of potions to take an overdose last time.’

‘Has she been cutting for long?’ Shelton enquired.

Harry and Ron both looked confused at the question.

‘Cutting? What do you mean?’ Harry asked.

‘If you look closely at your friend’s arms and legs she has a network of scars, not to mention a couple of freshly gouged patterns on her arms and a couple of slightly older wounds on her thighs that haven’t yet healed. I suspect she has been cutting herself regularly for quite some time in the lead-up to this event.’

Both Ron and Harry looked horrified at this news.

‘But why would she do that?’ Ron’s voice matched his expression.

Shelton shrugged. ‘Unfortunately, it is a relatively common trait in teenage girls and young women, particularly if they’ve been under some sort of severe stress. Although it seems as if it is an extreme reaction it’s not actually related to suicide. I suspect your friend was using it as some sort of pressure valve to help her cope with whatever difficult situation she was dealing with. However, it would appear that it obviously wasn’t enough to save her from breaking down completely and moving to a suicidal state. Does she have any other problems apart from the drinking? An eating disorder, maybe, or something else? They’re quite often linked.’

‘Mum’s always complaining that she doesn’t eat enough,’ Ron said. ‘She lost a lot of weight while she was—’ He stopped, realising that the Healers weren’t likely to know anything about Hermione’s history.

‘Hermione was abducted and held captive by an insane Death Eater for several months a few years ago,’ Harry took over the explanation as the Healers both looked curiously at Ron. ‘She was pretty badly treated and almost died several times. Since her release, she’s been having trouble getting over it although obviously, we’ve tried to help as much as we can. There just doesn’t seem to be anything we can do.’     

Fawley said soothingly, ‘She’s very lucky to have such good friends who take an interest in her welfare.’

‘Her chances are pretty good, you know,’ Shelton said comfortingly as he put his empty mug back on the tray Ron was still holding.

Ron didn’t look convinced.

‘We need to get her back to the hospital. Using the Floo is going to be the quickest way, I think,’ Fawley opined.

He used his wand to move Hermione out into the corridor, then into the lounge, where Ginny was still sitting, looking devastated.

Harry, who along with Ron had followed the Healers and Hermione, rushed over to join his wife. He scooped her into a tight hug and they watched disconsolately as the Healers manoeuvred Hermione and themselves into the fireplace. There was a flash of green flame, which made all the watchers jump, and then they were gone.

Harry, Ron and Ginny stared at the empty fireplace.

‘Is she—’ Ginny began quietly. Her fists were clenched as she tried to control herself although tears were welling and she couldn’t seem to stop them.

‘Hermione is still alive,’ Harry assured her, stopping her before she used the word none of them wanted to hear.

‘Then we need to go to the hospital,’ Ginny said.

Harry studied both his best friend and his wife. He suspected Ron didn’t want to go to the hospital but was worried that he would be seen as uncaring if he refused. Knowing that Ron was having difficulty with Hermione anyway, particularly in light of their recent argument which had further fractured their already strained relationship, the last thing he needed to do was to make his friend feel guilty as that would just increase the resentment. If Ron was allowed to leave now he might eventually choose to visit Hermione of his own accord, and maybe the healing could finally begin between them. 

‘Ron, you go back to the Burrow and update your family on what’s happened. Ginny and I will go to the hospital. You can meet us there later if you want,’ Harry told him.

A flash of relief and gratitude crossed Ron’s face but was instantly dismissed. He didn’t want Ginny to realise that he didn’t want to go and see Hermione in case it caused another argument. He nodded his agreement to Harry’s suggestion.

‘If you get any news let us know.’

‘Straight away,’ Harry promised. He clapped his hand on Ron’s shoulder. ‘She’s going to get through this, you know. It’s all going to be okay.’ He knew he was trying to convince himself every bit as much as Ron.

Ron stared at him for a couple of seconds, then gave another terse nod.

‘Good luck,’ he said, then as Harry moved back towards Ginny, he Disapparated.

‘Are you ready?’ Harry asked.

Ginny looked pale but determined. She nodded. ‘Let’s go. I want to talk to the Healers.’

Harry took her hand gently but firmly, then waved his wand to Apparate them both to a spot near the hospital’s Muggle department store entrance.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Hermione burst into tears when she discovered that once again she had been foiled in her attempt to find eternal peace — and they weren't tears of joy, either. She was still hurting so much and was now completely bewildered, unable to understand how she could possibly have survived. She had been so sure that this time—

But apparently, this hadn’t been her time either. Despite the list she had made, regardless of how sure she had been, she hadn’t counted on her friends being just that.

It seemed that Harry and Ginny didn’t care that she had ruined their reception. Even Ron, once he realised Hermione had gone missing, had calmed down enough to join in the search for her; sensibly sending Lavender home knowing her presence wouldn’t do anything to help calm his overwrought friend when they finally found her.

Hermione knew she should be grateful for such staunch friends but she was finding it hard to summon any charitable thoughts at the moment. She was in so much pain and she just wanted it all to end. But stuck in the hospital she couldn’t do anything about it, nor could she do anything to help ease the pain. There were no razor blades here, and even if there had been they wouldn’t let her anywhere near them.

She wasn’t even allowed a knife and fork at mealtimes at the moment. Instead, her plate arrived with the meal already cut into bite-sized pieces, which Hermione found extremely humiliating, and she was given a plastic spoon which was always carefully removed at the end of the meal.

Hermione had tried scratching herself, desperately trying to draw the blood that would calm and enliven her, but once the Healers discovered what she was doing they cut her nails short so she could do no more than leave a faint mark on her skin.

She had cried then, too.

Another intense series of counselling and more mood-enhancing drugs had been prescribed, along with treatment for her alcoholism. A lot of time was spent on an exercise programme designed to help raise her serotonin and endorphin levels, and a nutritionist devised a special diet, both to get Hermione back into eating properly again and to ensure she was receiving the essential nutrients she needed to help stimulate good mental health.

Although Harry and Ginny spent a lot of time at the hospital in the immediate aftermath of Hermione’s admittance they didn’t see her at all once she finally came round as she wasn’t ready to face the friends she couldn’t help but consider traitors for stopping her from what was so obviously the right course.

Ginny was devastated by the news that Hermione didn’t want to see them but Harry was more sanguine about it, understanding that it would take his friend time to realise that what she had done was a mistake and come to terms with it. He knew that eventually she would let them back into her life and then they would have to make a more concerted effort to support their fragile friend.

Whatever Lucius Malfoy had done to Hermione was clearly going to affect the rest of her life and she was going to need extensive help to get back on an even keel and then remain there permanently. Sadly, it appeared that even the best Healers couldn’t straighten out the terrible things the evil Death Eater had done to her, but hopefully, with time and lots of proper support, Hermione might finally be able to move on with her life and find some peace.

It also gave Ron a chance to sort himself out. He still felt some hostility towards Hermione and that wouldn’t aid in their friend's recovery. Harry hoped that recovery would include the realisation that Ron wasn’t destined to be Hermione’s boyfriend, whatever she may have hoped, and that she would finally relinquish her hold on those dreams and find someone who would look after her in the way she so desperately wanted Ron to do.

Despite her mistreatment, Hermione was still an attractive girl, and when she wasn't feeling depressed and obsessed with Ron and wasn’t tanked up with booze she was every bit as intelligent, witty and charming as she had been before she was held in captivity.

They had been down this road before and managed to bring her back again. This time would be the same; it might just take a bit more time and eventually when Hermione could handle it, some hard-talking truths.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Hermione groaned as the alarm went off. How could it be time to get up and go to work already? She was sure she had only dropped off about ten minutes ago. She hit the snooze button and immediately fell back into sleep, the warmth of her cosy bed snuggling her. But all too soon the buzzing started again, its annoying drone dragging her out of sleep once more.

Fighting the urge to hit the snooze button a second time, Hermione forced the covers off herself and shivered as the chilly early morning air enveloped her naked body, made warm by the bedclothes. She dragged herself off the bed and headed into the bathroom, her toothbrush already in her hand as she sat on the toilet. A brief shower followed which finally woke her up completely, but she still wasn’t feeling great.

Wrapped in her bathrobe she made her way into the kitchen and opened the fridge to retrieve some orange juice. She didn’t feel like tea or coffee this morning. She needed something to give her a bit of a boost, and vitamin C was the answer. For a second her mind turned to the thought that what she really needed was a proper drink — a little brandy, or some vodka in the orange juice would properly sort her out.

Hermione clenched the carton tightly as her body exhibited its craving, trying to push the thought from her mind in the same way she had done several times a day, every day, for the last fifteen and a half months. She had almost made it to a year and a half without a single drop of alcohol passing her lips and she wasn’t going to give up now just because she was feeling a bit ropey, although she didn’t have any alcohol in the flat anyway.

She glanced at the clock as she sat down at the kitchen table and poured the orange juice into a glass. She had plenty of time, she didn’t have to rush, which was good because she really didn’t have any energy this morning.

If she was honest, she had been feeling this way for the last few weeks, knowing something was wrong, maybe some virus or something, but it never got bad enough for her to do anything about it. Instead, she forced herself into work, did her job, then came home and cooked a light meal before falling into bed utterly exhausted by nine p.m.   

It wasn’t the most exciting life ever but it was a stable one. At least, it had been until—

Hermione finished her drink after taking her regular potions, then got up to rinse the glass under the tap, leaving it to dry on the draining board. She was not going to think about anything other than getting ready for work. She had to focus on that and nothing else otherwise she would end up going off track. She couldn’t risk that, not even for a moment.

She wandered back to her bedroom and opened the wardrobe door wide as she tried to decide what to wear. Autumn was one of those funny seasons; some days it was almost as warm as summer but on others, there was a cold breeze reminiscent of winter. Although the morning was chilly the last few days had been warm enough to not need anything more than a light cardigan and the most recent weather forecast hadn’t predicted a significant change in the weather.

Hermione rummaged in her drawers, digging out underwear before dressing in a smart pair of trousers, a tailored blouse and a soft lambswool pullover that would keep her warm on her journey to and from work but could easily be discarded once there.

She used her wand to attempt to tame her hair into some sort of order, eventually dragging it into a severe bun just to get it out of the way. She looked at herself in the mirror. She definitely wasn’t as perky as she could be. In fact, given just the slightest encouragement she would happily fall back into bed and sleep for a week. 

But Hermione knew she couldn’t do that. She was supposed to be meeting Harry for their usual quick breakfast before work started — her friend’s daily opportunity to check her over and make sure she wasn’t heading into dangerous realms again. She would smile and talk about the things she had done the night before — or not, as was more often the case these days — and she would attempt to ignore his piercing stare as he tried to assess her current mental state.

Once he was satisfied she was still okay they would part and head off to their respective jobs, where Hermione would plod through case after boring case until it was time for her to go home. There would be a short lunch break — St Mungo’s had made very clear her need to eat at regular intervals and she would spend a little time at the gym working it off again — but then it would be back to the grindstone until five or six p.m. when she could finally escape and go back to her quiet flat.

Today was different, Hermione reminded herself. Today she was only working until lunchtime and even if Harry was worried about her lethargy he wouldn’t need to do anything. Today was her regular weekly appointment with the Healer. She hadn’t mentioned the odd feeling to her the last few times she had been there but as it wasn’t getting any better she supposed she ought to say something, even if it turned out to be nothing.

She dropped to the floor to look under her bed for her shoes, finding them and putting them on before leaving the room to wander to the lounge to locate her handbag, checking that she had everything she needed for the day. Hermione looked at her watch, satisfied that she was exactly on time, then headed out the door for the short walk to the Ministry of Magic building.

 

 

* * *

 

 

‘I have to admit I haven’t been feeling all that great recently,’ Hermione told Healer Beacher as the two of them sat in the Healer’s office.

‘Why’s that?’ Healer Beacher asked a little sharply as she studied Hermione with concern. ‘Have you been having difficult feelings again, Hermione?’

Hermione shrugged. ‘I’ve had a few ups and downs over the last couple of months,’ she admitted. ‘The not drinking has been quite hard for the last couple of weeks — the craving has been growing again — but I’ve managed to fight it.’ For a moment a whisper of something appeared in her mind but she pushed it away before it could take hold. ‘It’s more a physical thing, I think.’

‘What do you mean by a physical thing? Are you talking about the effect the cravings are having on your body?’ Healer Beacher enquired.

‘No — although I was thinking that maybe the potions I’m taking are causing a problem. I wonder if they’re too strong or something.’

‘Are they making you nauseated? Headaches? Any sign of a rash? Are you getting heart palpitations or feeling dizzy?’

Hermione shook her head. ‘No, none of those things, but I feel as if I’m really run-down all the time. I’ve got no energy despite eating and drinking healthily and exercising every day, and I just feel a bit odd — sort of sluggish, I suppose you would say.’

‘Have you had a cold recently — a temperature or a sore throat or anything?’ Healer Beacher looked more intently at Hermione, who shook her head again. ‘How has everything been going, bodily? Do you have regular bowel movements? No trouble with the waterworks? What about your periods? I know you were having something of a problem with them a while back.’

Hermione wasn’t about to tell Healer Beacher that she had been constipated for the last couple of weeks. It was bad enough that she had to admit to not feeling well as it always made her more vulnerable and there was always that underlying panic that she would be forced back into hospital. Anyway, it would probably only be a couple of days before she went the other way —that was what always seemed to happen.

‘I don’t have a problem going to the loo,’ she said dismissively. ‘My periods are still up the creek, though. I haven’t had one since the end of June, I think. Do you think that might be what’s making me feel so lethargic?’

‘It might be,’ Healer Beacher agreed. ‘I suggest we run a few tests just to make sure you haven’t picked up a virus from somewhere. As you don’t have any of the normal side effects one would expect from a problem with the medication, we need to rule out all physical possibilities first before we can look at whether the medication is affecting you adversely.’

‘It’s not that bad,’ Hermione said, trying to reassure the Healer in case she began to worry about her. ‘It’s more annoying than anything, but it’s been a few weeks now and I’d really like to shake it or change my medication if that’s what’s causing it.’

‘Well, let’s do the tests and see what comes back,’ Healer Beacher told her with a smile. ‘You’ve probably just got a touch of the October sniffles and we can soon put that right.’ Then she added approvingly, ‘You were right to mention it, though, Hermione. It’s tangible proof of how much you have improved over the last few months that you were able to do so.’


	9. PART TWO - CHAPTER THREE

Hermione really, really needed a drink. She needed one more than anything else in the world right at this moment. Surely no one would begrudge her one considering the news she had recently been given. She still wasn’t sure how she had made it home from the hospital without buying any alcohol, but somehow she had managed it — yay, her! Now she really regretted passing up the opportunity, but she had to stay strong. 

Despondently, she opened and closed all the cupboards in her kitchen trying to decide what she wanted, but the problem was there really wasn’t anything — apart from a stiff drink, and that was the one thing she couldn’t have — not ever. As she closed the final cupboard door she slumped in defeat.

Hermione knew this was an extremely dangerous time for her. If she let her concentration slip for just one minute she would fall off the path and before she knew it she would be back in St Mungo’s, back with the other nutters who couldn’t be allowed out in public. She wanted to cry. She had been doing so well, too, but now everything was out of control and unless she was very careful she was going to crash and burn.

There was no alcohol so how else could she get her life back under control? For a moment she considered her old standby, the blissful release of cutting. But that was a nonstarter, too. If she turned up to her weekly session with cuts — and they always checked — she would be back in the psycho ward before she even had a chance to explain why she had done it.

_What did normal people do to relieve stress?_ Hermione wondered. There was exercise, but she already did enough of that and she really didn’t have the energy or desire to get all sweaty this evening. She considered some of the classes that her local gym provided that she had never previously taken part in, but soon ruled all of them out, too. Yoga had never really appealed and aerobics was far too energetic, especially in her current state.

Sighing, she made her way to the lounge, trying to stop the nervous energy currently coursing through her from forcing her into making a stupid mistake that would cost her not only the freedom she currently had but so much else besides. If she was sensible she would contact one of her friends or even Healer Beacher, but she couldn’t face seeing anyone at the moment and she definitely didn’t feel like talking.

Hermione sat down and looked at the pile of paperwork on the edge of the coffee table. Perhaps if she went through that it would take her mind off her current predicament, at least for a few minutes. She picked up the pile of bills and other assorted papers, splitting them into piles as she sorted through them, stacking them neatly, her mind not really concentrating on the task as she continued mentally trying to talk herself out of leaving the flat to find some alcohol.

Her hand brushed a thick piece of parchment, much better quality than the other papers in the pile. The change in texture made her look down to study the document and a small gasp of dismay left her lips as a feeling of nausea rose within her. Hermione dropped the remaining paperwork on the sofa next to her and rushed to the bathroom, knowing she was going to be sick.

This was all her own stupid fault, she thought morosely as she hung over the toilet, retching. She had brought this upon herself — always looking for ways to ruin her life, even unconsciously. She really was a walking disaster area. Even her attempts to help herself were destined to blow up in her face.

What she had done this time was no different, and she should have known . . . _had known_ what a mistake she was making before she even did it. But then she had gone and done it anyway, pushing that self-destruct button yet again.

Hermione wiped her mouth with some toilet paper then stood up, flushing the loo before washing her face and rinsing her mouth. She stared at herself in the mirror, trying to see if she could detect any physical changes. There weren’t any apart from her clammy, dull-looking skin. That wasn’t really a surprise considering the way she felt, although it was typical that she was destined to get the shitty end of the stick as usual.

Once she was certain she wasn’t going to be sick again Hermione went back to the lounge, forcing herself to go and face the latest problem awaiting her. She picked up the expensive parchment, considered it for a moment, then tore it into small pieces and threw it into the fireplace. It didn’t really help but at least she wasn’t going to accidentally come across it again.

In another twenty minutes, she had finished sorting the stack, several other parchments joining the first in the fireplace. She glanced at the clock. It was almost half past eight but although it was really too late and she wasn’t feeling at all hungry, Hermione knew she had to eat. If she didn’t she would feel terrible in the morning, especially having just been sick.

Back in the kitchen, she mulled unenthusiastically over what to have, finally deciding on a mushroom omelette as it was light and wasn’t likely to make her feel bloated or sick again, at least she hoped not. As the omelette cooked, Hermione rummaged through her first aid box looking for something that would help to ease her constipation, but there was nothing that was safe enough for her to take now. Unhappily, she put the box away and headed instead for the fridge and a lemon that was sitting in the crisper drawer. She would have to try one of the old methods and hope it worked because she really wasn’t keen on prunes, which she recalled her mother making her eat as a child.

Suddenly overwhelmed with a terrible sense of loss, Hermione dropped into a kitchen chair. Tears rolled down her face as she remembered her parents for the first time in ages. She had never missed them more than she did right now. She needed their wisdom and guidance and most of all their love. She needed them to wrap their arms around her and kiss her and tell her she hadn’t completely fucked up her life again.

Hermione sat there, her arms wrapped around herself as memory after memory affected her, the tears still coming thick and fast until a nasty burning smell and wafts of grey smoke reminded her that she had been in the middle of cooking. She grabbed the now burnt pan off the stove and dumped it in the sink, listening to it sizzle as she ran cold water over it to try to stop the smoke and the burning smell. She was lucky it hadn’t caught on fire or she would have been in real trouble.

She pushed open the small kitchen window, shivering as the cold air rushed in, expelling the smoke. She looked down sadly at the burnt mess in her frying pan. Her omelette was ruined, as was her pan, probably. With a sigh, she drained as much of the water as possible before discarding the deceased omelette in the bin. She examined the pan interestedly. Actually, it looked like it might be okay once she gave it a good clean but she couldn’t be bothered to do it tonight. Nor could she face having to make anything else to eat, she would just have to deal with her low glucose levels, dizziness and nausea in the morning. Maybe she would have a proper breakfast for once rather than just sipping on a cup of lukewarm tea while she chatted to Harry.

Hermione put the pan back in the sink and let out a sigh. Sometimes she really did feel like she was the unluckiest woman in the world, and today was definitely one of those days. She looked at the lemon, not understanding for a moment why it was on the table, but then she remembered and another wave of tremendous sadness washed over her. Hermione scooped up the lemon and put it back in the fridge. No constipation cure for her tonight, either. She was going to go to bed as it was the only safe thing to do under the circumstances. Hopefully, if she didn’t have any nightmares, she would feel different in the morning and would be better equipped to deal with the problems today had brought. At least she had managed to keep away from the demon booze for yet one more day — and under extreme provocation, too.

As she lay in bed, Hermione placed her hands on her stomach and felt the hardness of the bloating. No wonder she felt sick all the time. She was definitely going to have to do something to sort out the constipation before it made her really ill. All that trapped wind was so uncomfortable but it was too embarrassing to discuss, even with the Healer.

Her mind turned back to the letter she had torn up. She should have done that when she first received it, then she wouldn’t be in this position. The worst thing was that it had made her deceitful. She had lied, quite blatantly, to Healer Beacher, and that worried Hermione. Lying was yet another step on the slippery path to her downfall — she had told lies constantly when she was at her worst: to herself, to her friends, and even to her boss and work colleagues. One lie begat another lie and so on until it was impossible to untangle yourself from the untruths you had woven.

The thing was, she had only lied to Healer Beacher because she was too embarrassed to tell the truth. Hermione bit her bottom lip. No, see, that wasn’t true either. She had lied because she hadn’t told Healer Beacher what she had done — it was one of those things she had neglected to mention at the time because she was ashamed of how she had slipped so badly and because she knew it would not have been well received by either the Healer or her friends. Having omitted it from the narrative then, she could hardly admit the truth now, although eventually, everyone would know what she had done; it would be impossible for them not to if she went through with it.

She sighed. That really was a decision for another day. There was absolutely no way on earth she was prepared to deal with something of that magnitude in her current state, even though she was likely to remain in this state until she dealt with it. It was a vicious circle that she couldn’t break out of.

Hermione tried to imagine talking to her friends about it, but yet again she was too scared to admit to what she had done. How could she explain when she didn’t even really understand it herself? The only thing she knew for certain was that Ron was going to be pissed off with her again, and this time he probably had good reason.

She blinked away the tears that were forming under her closed eyelids and then turned, curling herself up under the blankets and willing herself into sleep.

It took an awfully long time to come.

 

 

* * *

 

 

‘Are you going to tell us who the father is?’ Ron asked.

Hermione regarded him for a moment, then shook her head.

‘I honestly can’t believe you’re being so bloody stupid,’ he raged. ‘You can’t even look after yourself properly, Hermione. What the hell makes you think you can cope with looking after a baby?’

‘Don’t you understand? This gives me something to live for,’ Hermione said quietly.

She ignored the pained looks on the faces of her friends at this comment.

‘I have to admit I don’t understand how you can be pregnant,’ Harry confessed.

Hermione gave him a withering look. ‘The usual way, of course. I had sex.’

‘Unprotected sex,’ Ron shot back. ‘I thought you stopped all that crap when you stopped drinking. Or _have_ you stopped drinking?’

‘It wasn’t unprotected, it was an accident,’ Hermione retorted. ‘My contraceptive charm failed. And yes, I have stopped drinking. I can’t drink because I’m pregnant, remember? Although I haven’t had a drink since the day I went into hospital.’

There was a slightly awkward silence for a few seconds as everyone was uncomfortably reminded of Hermione’s last suicide attempt.

‘I think what Harry means, and Ron said a little too bluntly, is that it’s hard to understand how you can be pregnant when you’re not going out anywhere or seeing anybody.’ Ginny was trying to be more tactful than her brother and husband.

‘I’m not telling you who the father is, so you can stop asking,’ Hermione informed them.

‘Is that because you don’t know who it is?’ Ron asked snidely.

‘I didn’t pick him up in a dodgy bar if that’s what you’re thinking, but I’m only just coming to terms with it myself and I’m not yet ready to bring him into the equation.’

‘But he is going to play a part in bringing up the baby, isn’t he?’ Ginny asked.

‘No. It’s just going to be me,’ Hermione said adamantly. ‘I haven’t told him I’m pregnant and I don’t intend to.’

She shot a filthy look at Ron, who had just snorted, knowing he was thinking the worst of her as usual.

‘Do we know him?’ Harry asked.

Hermione considered this question for several seconds. ‘Yes. But don’t bother giving me a list of names because I’m not going to tell you. He’s not important except for his sperm donation.’

‘So you’re definitely going to keep it, then?’ Ginny enquired, a note of anxiety in her voice. She, like the others, wasn’t entirely sure that Hermione could handle the pressure of having to care for a baby.

‘Yes, I am. I’ll admit I did think about getting rid of it, initially, but after I considered it for a while I realised it wasn’t fair of me to get rid of a perfectly healthy baby just because I made a mistake. The more I considered it, the surer I became that this was meant to happen now. To be honest, I’ve been finding things a bit of a struggle again recently . . . but this is just what I need. It gives me something to focus on, something to do that isn’t just about me for once.’

‘I don’t know, Hermione,’ Harry said worriedly. ‘Do you think you’re ready for this, especially if you’re struggling? It might be too much to take on, and it’s not only you that’s going to be a casualty if things go wrong.’

‘Thanks for all the faith in me, guys. I really appreciate it,’ Hermione said coldly, lifting her glass of pumpkin juice up as if in a toast. ‘At least I know who _not_ to call on for help.’

‘I didn’t mean that,’ Harry said hurriedly. ‘We’re just worried about you, that’s all. You know we’ll always be there to support you, whatever happens. I’m just not sure you’ve properly thought through the consequences — you realise you’ll never sleep again once it’s born, don’t you?’

‘I might get lucky and get a blissfully tired child,’ Hermione said.

Ginny snorted. ‘Yeah, good luck with that. What you’re going to get is the same as the rest of us — feeding and nappy changing all night long and trying to get everything else done during the day during the few brief naps it takes. After a month you honestly will feel like you’ve never slept a day in your life, and it just doesn’t stop. It really is extremely stressful.’

‘Perhaps Hermione should borrow James for a couple of months and see how she copes,’ Ron suggested blithely, ignoring the glares Harry and Ginny shot his way at this comment.

‘I’d be happy to look after James. I’ve already told you that,’ Hermione said. ‘I’ll do it anytime you want, for as long as you want, especially if you want to have a break.’

She noticed the looks passing across the table. ‘You don’t trust me,’ she said unhappily.

‘It’s not that,’ Ginny said quickly. ‘It’s just that James is so young and neither Harry nor I want to let go of him at the moment.’

‘So why don’t you think I’ll feel the same about my baby?’ Hermione asked unhappily.

Ginny bit her lip nervously. ‘I’m sure you will, Hermione. But looking after a baby is tough enough for the two of us. You’ve just said you’ll be on your own, so it’s going to be doubly difficult. When you’re not feeling on top of the world anyway it might all get too much for you, and you have to admit you’re not very good at coping when everything breaks down.’

‘Or, it might be exactly what I need,’ Hermione insisted. ‘Okay, so I know you’re not happy about it but you could try supporting me rather than running me down.’

‘I think Hermione will make a good mum,’ Lavender said. She had been quiet until now but was concerned about how negative the friends were being about Hermione’s news.

Ron looked at her in astonishment. ‘Are we talking about the same person here?’

Lavender nodded. ‘Yes. I understand why you’re all worried. I’m sure Hermione has the same doubts as you, but she’s trying to be positive about the situation so I think we should be as well. With support and help from people like your mum, she’ll be fine.’ She smiled at Hermione. ‘I think it’s wonderful news, Hermione. Congratulations.’

Hermione smiled back. ‘Thank you, Lavender. I am quite excited about it although I was always aware it wasn’t going to be a popular choice amongst my friends. I just never realised how little they trust me or think me capable of coping. It’s quite depressing, actually.’

‘I never said you wouldn’t cope, I just said you might not,’ Harry insisted defensively.

‘Not much difference,’ Hermione retorted, ‘and Ron _definitely_ said I couldn’t.’

‘I don’t think you can,’ Ron said with a shrug. ‘Sorry, but I think you’re mental to even consider it when you can’t even look after yourself properly.’ He winced and scowled as Lavender whacked him hard on the arm.

‘What did Healer Beacher say about it?’ Ginny asked, trying to push away Ron’s negativity and curious to know what the Healer thought about Hermione’s condition and how she had got that way. She would have to get Harry to talk to the Healer about it and see if he could find out what she really thought.

‘She was cautious but hopeful,’ Hermione said. ‘Obviously, it came as just as much of a surprise to her as it did to all of us — and I include me in that — but once I discussed it with her properly she agreed that carrying it to term was a good idea and that I should go for it.’

‘Then I guess you’re ready,’ Ginny said with a smile. She raised her glass. ‘Congratulations, Hermione.’

Harry and Lavender raised their glasses, too, joining in with the toast. Ron merely scowled at them all and shook his head in disbelief.

Hermione raised her glass and finished the last mouthful.

‘Do you want another one?’ Harry asked. He started to get up.

Hermione shook her head. ‘No thanks, Harry. I’m going to go home. I’m just feeling tired all the time at the moment, and I haven’t even started getting big yet.’

‘When is the baby due?’ Lavender asked.

‘Sometime in April.’

‘So you’re, what, five months gone?’ This was Harry.

‘About that. I got pregnant at the end of July.’

‘Wait until next March, you’ll feel like you’ve been pregnant forever,’ Ginny warned her.

Hermione smiled. ‘I’m really looking forward to it. I’m leaving work at the end of February so I can get everything prepared. I want to completely redecorate the flat before the baby comes.’

‘Are you coming to the Burrow for dinner on Christmas Day?’ Ginny asked.

‘Yes. I was going to tell your parents about the baby then — if you don’t mind holding off on telling them.’

‘Of course we will. Mum will be over the moon. You know how she loves babies,’ Ginny said.

‘And Dad will be running for the shed in exasperation,’ Ron added with a chuckle. ‘I don’t think he’s quite so keen. After seven children I think he was hoping for a bit of peace and quiet in his old age.’

Hermione shook her head, laughing. ‘With seven children your dad was never going to get a peaceful old age. What if you all end up having seven children each?’

‘I’m not having seven kids,’ Ron said gruffly. ‘We haven’t even decided if we want one yet, have we?’ He looked at Lavender.

She shrugged. ‘I’m not fussed at the moment, but you never know when that old body clock is going to start ticking.’

‘I’m not having seven children either,’ Ginny said.

Harry hugged her. ‘That’s a shame. I was thinking how I’d like a large family.’

‘Three’s the limit,’ Ginny replied adamantly. ‘After that, I’m not having sex with you anymore unless you put a knot in it.’

Everyone around the table laughed. Hermione was pleased that her meeting with her friends had ended with laughter rather than recriminations.

‘I’ll see you all next week, then,’ she said as she hugged each of them in turn.

‘Take care, Hermione,’ Ron whispered before he released her.

‘I’m going to be fine, Ron. I promise I will.’

He stared at her for a couple of seconds, took a deep breath, then nodded.

‘See you next week,’ Ginny said as Hermione walked towards the door.

‘I’d still like to know who the father is,’ Ron said once the door closed behind Hermione.


	10. PART THREE - CHAPTER ONE

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time has moved on again . . . 
> 
> Thank you to all of you who are sticking with the story. I promise it's not relentlessly depressing from here on in. Dx

Hermione looked at the envelope, a feeling of dread roiling around in her stomach. She knew who the letter was from and she knew that if she had any sense she would throw it straight into the fire, unopened, and then try to forget all about it. The one thing she really didn’t want to do was open it. She didn’t need that sort of trouble in her life, not when everything was finally going relatively well.

She sighed as she wandered back to the lounge. What she should have done was refuse to accept it from the owl in the first place and made it take it back. That way she would have guaranteed that no further letters would follow. Instead—

Her eyes drifted to the neat writing on the front of the envelope as if hoping that she had been mistaken, but no, she recognised it, even if the quality of the paper hadn’t given it away. The envelope lay in her hand almost pulsating, its evil grasp reaching out to her. She had to get rid of it.

 _Tear it up and put it in the fireplace_ , a small voice in her mind suggested. _Once it’s gone you won’t have to worry about it any longer._

Hermione stared at the envelope again. How was it that even after all these years and after everything she had achieved she was still unable to break away, unable to throw away one stupid letter?

She walked over to the fireplace and dropped it into the grate. There, it was done. The next time she used the Floo it would disintegrate and she wouldn’t have to worry. She just had to forget it was there in the meantime.

The chiming of the clock told her it was time to leave. She had to go and meet the other mothers, her regular afternoon appointment. It was a nice summer’s day and, interestingly, she was actually feeling quite upbeat for a change. She looked forward to spending some time with friends and she might even treat herself and Sophie to an ice cream later. She picked up her bag and headed out of the flat.

It was only a short walk to the school, where she found Padma and Parvati already waiting outside the gate. She greeted her friends warmly, happily joining in the conversation as they waited for their children to emerge from the small building.

‘Are you still going to see Lavender this afternoon?’ Padma asked.

Hermione nodded. ‘She’s bringing Fred to the park. Ginny will be there, too. That’s why I said I’d pick up James for her. She’s having trouble walking at the moment, and Albus is more than enough of a handful in her state.’

‘Ooh, maybe we’ll tag along for a while,’ Padma suggested a touch wistfully. ‘I love babies. They’re all so squishy and cuddly, aren’t they?’

‘I just hope he looks more like Lavender than Ron — although red hair would be cool,’ Parvati said wickedly.

Hermione laughed. ‘I’m sure he’s as cute as a button whatever he looks like, although I agree it would be a bit unfortunate if he took after Ron.’

She waved as she saw Sophie and James emerge from the school together. They were looking at something and didn’t spot her so she stopped waving, feeling a little embarrassed.

‘There are your twins,’ Hermione told Parvati, who beamed when she saw her daughters walking across the playground. They were identically dressed and holding hands.

Hermione thought they looked like younger versions of Parvati and Padma as she remembered them from their first day at Hogwarts. A moment later a small dark-haired boy came racing across the playground. He tripped and fell over, scraping his knees on the tarmac. He burst into tears as Padma shook her head with amusement.

‘Why is it always Miles?’ she asked in mild exasperation as she watched James and Sophie stop to help him up. He was still crying and limped a bit as the three friends headed for the gate.

‘Who wants to go to the park?’ Parvati asked as the children grouped around them. It was soon made fairly clear that everyone wanted to go to the park.

Hermione bent down to give her daughter a hug, a geyser of love so strong it almost overwhelmed her rising up as she brushed Sophie’s blonde hair from her face.

‘We need to get your hair cut this weekend, Soph,’ she said.

Sophie shook her head. ‘I like it like this.’

‘You can’t see because of that fringe,’ Hermione pointed out. ‘You need to get that bit cut, at least.’

The little girl looked petulant for a moment but then shrugged. ‘Okay. Are we going to the park, Mummy? Miles, Jasmine and Juniper are going.’

‘We are. We’re going to meet Aunt Ginny. She and Albus are walking there with Aunt Lavender.’

Sophie looked excited. ‘Will Fred be there?’ she asked hopefully.

‘He certainly will, and we’ll get a chance to see him. Then I thought we could have an ice cream if you want one.’

Sophie looked ecstatic at this news. ‘Can James have one, too?’ She looked over at her friend, who was talking to Miles while Padma wiped the blood from his knees, trying to comfort him as she did so.

‘I’m sure he can. We’ll have to check with Ginny first but I’m sure she’ll be fine about it.’ Hermione studied her daughter for a moment. ‘What were you and James looking at when you left the school? I waved at you but you didn’t see me because the two of you were so engrossed.’

For a moment Sophie seemed a little embarrassed, but then she pulled a picture from the pocket of her dress. She held it out shyly to her mother, who took it and unfolded it. Hermione frowned for a second at the image then forced herself to smile instead. She looked around, realising everyone was ready to go.

‘That’s a very nice picture, Sophie. How about we go to the park and then you can tell me all about it? Shall I look after it for you?’

The little girl nodded happily. ‘It’s for you, anyway, Mummy.’

Sophie drifted away to join James again as Hermione carefully folded the picture and put it in her handbag. She found it vaguely disquieting and suspected it was going to throw up a conversation she hadn’t wanted to have with her daughter for a while yet, but she couldn’t just ignore it.

Hermione joined Parvati and Padma as the kids all ran along in front, spreading out as they sprinted through the gates of the park and ran pell-mell towards the play area.

‘I bet Ginny’s as big as a house, isn’t she?’ Parvati asked as the three women followed the children more slowly.

‘She is pretty big,’ Hermione confirmed. ‘I think she’s finding it a bit of a struggle this time, especially with Albus still being so young — although you’d know all about that, having twins, Parvati.’

‘I have to admit that the one set is enough for us,’ Parvati said. ‘When Dean and I first got married he kept talking about having a football team’s worth.’ She grinned widely. ‘That soon stopped when the twins came along. Suddenly, two was the perfect number — although I agree with that. I wouldn’t want any more.’

She almost asked Hermione if she was considering having another child, then remembered that she was single so it wasn’t very likely.

‘I think Padma wanted another one, but Seamus is worried about them having twins so he’s not keen.’ Parvati shot a sympathetic look at her sister, who had now almost caught up with the other children, being dragged along as she was by Miles. She confided, ‘I think it gets her a bit down sometimes. I’ve seen her crying about it more than once.’

‘Couldn’t Dean have a word with Seamus? Perhaps he doesn’t realise how selfish he’s being, or maybe he just needs a mate to tell him that twins are fine,’ Hermione suggested.

‘You know what Dean’s like, he’s hopeless,’ Parvati said.

‘I think that’s men in general,’ Hermione opined. They both laughed. ‘They really are rubbish, aren’t they?’

‘There’s Ginny,’ Parvati said. ‘Oh, and there’s Lavender — and Fred!’ She sounded excited.

Hermione slowed down as her friend sped up to join the others. The children were already crowded around the pram, desperate to see the baby inside. Sophie looked as excited as if she had just met Father Christmas. Hermione felt her heartstrings tug as she watched her daughter with Lavender’s son, so clearly enjoying being near the baby.

She knew Sophie would love to have a baby brother or sister — it was what she had put on last year’s Christmas list until Hermione had gently pointed out that Father Christmas wasn’t able to provide people as a present. The request had then changed to a puppy, followed shortly after by a kitten, on which Hermione had eventually given in, knowing that Sophie would be able to take it to Hogwarts with her when she finally reached eleven.

Boots, as the kitten was called due to his being black with three white paws, had instantly become Sophie’s best friend; whenever she was at home the two were inseparable. Hermione didn’t mind this as Boots reminded her a bit of Crookshanks, her cat . . . well, mainly cat, from her own school days.

He now lived at the Burrow, where Mr and Mrs Weasley had taken him in after her parents’ death. He was very happy there, and although she had occasionally wished over the years that she could have taken him with her to the flat, Hermione knew she had done the right thing by leaving him where he was.

It was almost heartbreaking that Sophie was so keen to have a sibling when she was never going to get one. Hermione’s track record with men had never been very good before Sophie came along; no one was interested in a slightly crazy, ex-alcoholic, single mother, and with just about every male she knew — with the exception of Charlie Weasley — all settled down and in stable relationships, unless there was a miracle she wasn’t likely to find a boyfriend anytime soon.

She thought about the letter sitting in the fireplace at home, then pushed the thought out of her mind. No, it was crazy. Sophie took every ounce of her patience and energy already. There was no way she could even think about having another child, not as a single mother and definitely not with—

‘Hermione, are you all right, love?’ Ginny’s voice cut through her thoughts. ‘You look like you’re away with the fairies.’

Hermione smiled and nodded and walked towards her friend, who was sitting on a bench next to Lavender. She bent down and kissed both women on the cheek.

‘How are you?’ she asked Ginny.

‘Like a baby orca under full steam,’ Ginny admitted ruefully. ‘My legs are killing me. My ankles are so swollen I can’t even see my feet.’

‘You couldn’t see them anyway with that bulge,’ Lavender joked.

‘True, but at least I knew they were there. Now I’ve just got these swollen tree trunk things,’ Ginny said, sounding grouchy, ‘and it’s too bloody hot.’

‘Ah, yes. I promised Sophie I would ask you if James can have an ice cream later. We’re going to get one.’

‘I don’t see why not,’ Ginny said. ‘They’ll only sulk if I say no and I really don’t need that sort of trouble tonight. Harry’s had to go away at short notice so I’ve got the joy of having them all to myself for the evening.’ She looked towards the park where her second son, Albus, was attempting to crawl up the cargo net. She groaned loudly. ‘Oh gods, can someone go and stop Albus from killing himself on the net? I would do it but I can’t get up.’

Hermione patted her on the shoulder and chuckled. ‘You stay there, Buddha. I’ll go and get your young adventurer.’

She headed into the play area to retrieve the toddler and soon returned to the bench. She sat Albus on Ginny’s lap.

‘How are you feeling now, Lavender?’ she asked as she moved so she could look in the pram now that the children had got bored with the baby and gone to play on the swings. She looked at the cheeky little face of the smiling boy. ‘He’s really lovely.’

‘I feel much better now,’ Lavender told her. ‘The hospital gave me some medication which helped a lot, and Molly’s been very good, of course.’

‘She’s a lifesaver,’ Hermione said with a smile. ‘I don’t know how any of us would cope without her.

‘I think Ron’s a bit disappointed,’ Lavender confessed, sounding embarrassed.

Hermione stared at her in confusion. ‘Why? What has he got to be disappointed about? Fred’s perfect. Ron's extremely lucky to have both of you.’

‘ _You_ know,’ Lavender said. She was blushing and looking quite anxious now.

‘The postpartum depression, you mean?’ Hermione’s voice had taken on a colder tone.

Lavender flinched slightly at the words, then nodded but didn’t say anything.

Hermione sighed loudly. ‘Unfortunately, your husband is an emotionless ignoramus, Lavender, who doesn’t understand what damage he does without even trying.’

‘Yeah, he can be a real dick,’ Ginny piped up.

Hermione sat down between the two women and gave Lavender a hug.

‘I’m sorry Ron’s such a loss in the support stakes. It’s a shame he can’t experience for himself what you’re going through. Maybe then he wouldn’t be so bloody judgemental all the time.’

‘He doesn’t understand why I can’t cope when you were so brilliant with Sophie—’ Lavender said, her voice no higher than a whisper.

‘Considering I’m a fruit loop?’ Hermione finished for her friend.

Lavender flinched again. ‘He doesn’t call you that, Hermione,’ she said reprovingly.

‘No, but he thinks it,’ Hermione retorted. ‘Don’t forget I’ve had years of this from him before you even came back. But I honestly thought he would be different with you. He really is a bloody idiot, isn’t he?’

She fumed for a couple of minutes as all Ron’s slights came back to her but then took a deep breath, determined to shed the anger. It had been a long time since she had allowed Ronald Weasley to get under her skin and she wasn’t about to let it happen again now.

‘Did you explain to him that one in seven women suffer postpartum depression?’ Hermione asked.

‘The Healer told him but I don’t think he was really listening,’ Lavender said.

 _No_ , Hermione thought angrily, _he was just busy losing his temper because his perfect wife couldn’t cope with having a baby, whereas his mental best friend seemed to cruise through her pregnancy and the years after without any of the problems he had expected her to have._

She had been such a disappointment to Ron in so many ways, and not just because of Sophie’s father.

Soothingly, she told Lavender, ‘I was extraordinarily lucky with Sophie. She was my light in the darkness so I was always going to be able to look after her with no problems because she was exactly what I needed at the time to keep me sane — and she continues to be that. That’s a completely different scenario to just about everyone else in the world, and it’s extremely unfair of Ronald to judge you by my experience. Do you want me to have a word with him about it?’

Lavender blanched. ‘I don’t think that’s a good idea, Hermione. It might start another argument.’

‘Me breathing causes an argument with Ron,’ Hermione said peevishly.

‘Don’t say that!’ Ginny sounded upset. ‘You have no idea what he was like when he thought you were—’

Hermione realised Ginny was on the verge of crying.

‘Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. I just meant that these days everything I say or do seems to annoy him. Can’t someone in your family have a word with him, Gin? What about George? Surely he could have a quiet chat while they’re in the shop?’

‘Ron wouldn’t be very happy about people discussing it,’ Lavender said. She sounded positively unhappy now.

Hermione frowned. ‘Well, bad luck for him. Fortunately, things like this don’t stay private — nor should they. How does he expect you to get better if he isn’t going to support you and he expects you to keep it a secret?’

‘Now I have the medication he thinks it’s all gone away and I’m okay again. I don’t think he realises what he says sometimes.’

‘I’m damn sure he doesn’t,’ Hermione agreed. ‘Unfortunately, he’s always tended to engage his mouth before his brain.’ She thought for a moment, then added, ‘You know who needs to have a word with him — your dad, Ginny. You need to tell him to sit Ron down and have a serious talk with him. I bet he understands all about postpartum depression; he’s got to have done with seven children. Your mum must have suffered it at least once.’

Ginny looked thoughtful. ‘You know, you might be right. I’ll have a word with him and get him to talk to Ron — although that boy’s so thick I’m not sure it’ll sink in. It’s got to be worth a try, though.’

‘And you need to talk to Mrs Weasley,’ Hermione told Lavender kindly. ‘She’s a really great listener. I know because she’s listened to me spout all sorts of crap over the years. Tell her how you’re feeling, be honest about it, and I bet you’ll find she’ll give you all sorts of support you hadn’t even considered before.’

Lavender looked a little mollified by the suggestions. ‘I just wanted everything to be perfect,’ she said wistfully.

‘Well, that was your first mistake right there,’ Ginny said sardonically. She was grinning. Lavender and Hermione both stared at her expectantly. ‘You expecting perfection with Ron. That’s never going to happen. Lower your expectations and try for good. That’s what I went for with Harry, and it seems to have worked for us.’

‘Maybe my expectations are set too high,’ Lavender admitted.

‘I would say so,’ Ginny told her with a chuckle.

‘I’m going to take the kids to get an ice cream. Do either of you want anything?’ Hermione asked.

‘I wouldn’t mind a Calippo if they’ve got one. I’m seriously overheating here,’ Ginny said, sounding uncomfortable. She was waving a handkerchief in front of her face but it wasn’t generating much of a breeze in the sultry afternoon.

‘I’m fine, thanks, Hermione,’ Lavender said.

Hermione held her hand out to Albus. ‘Do you want to come with me and get an ice cream, Albus?’

Albus smiled and put his arms up for her to carry him. Hermione picked him up and hoisted him onto her hip.  ‘I’ll see you ladies shortly.’

She walked towards the play area with Albus.

‘Okay, so who wants an ice cream, then?’

 

 

* * *

 

 

‘Fred was _really_ lovely, wasn’t he, Mummy?’ Sophie said.

She was sitting at the kitchen table trying to feed her spaghetti hoops to Boots, although he didn’t seem to be interested. Hermione put a glass of milk down in front of her.

‘He was very cute. Sophie, stop trying to feed the cat. He doesn’t eat pasta.’

‘I think it would be really lovely to have a baby,’ Sophie said wistfully a couple of minutes later. By now she had a milk moustache and was wearing quite a lot of the tomato sauce.

‘That’s because you only saw Fred when he was smiley and happy,’ Hermione informed her. ‘You would soon get fed up with him when he cried all night every night, stopping you from getting any sleep, or when you had to change his nappies every couple of hours because they’re really smelly and horrible — and don’t forget when he’s sick all over you after you feed him. Looking after a baby is much harder work than it looks.’

Sophie looked disappointed. ‘I just think it would be nice to have a sister . . . or a brother.’

‘I know, darling but it’s not that easy. There’s far more to having a baby than just deciding you want one.’ Hermione looked at the three-quarters-empty plate and the knife and fork now dumped on top of it and wallowing in the remaining tomato sauce. ‘Have you finished with your tea?’

Sophie nodded and picked up her glass of milk. Hermione took the plate away and returned with a cloth. She wiped down the plastic tablecloth and handed Sophie a paper napkin so she could wipe her face.

‘If you’ve finished you can get down from the table and go through to the lounge. I’ll join you in a couple of minutes, once I’ve sorted out the washing up, and we can read a book together before bed, okay?’

Sophie got down from the table and went to the next room, the cat immediately following her. Hermione watched her fondly for a moment, then picked up the empty glass and took it to the sink. She placed the crockery and silverware into it, added a squirt of washing-up liquid, and ran the hot water. Once the dishes were covered she wiped her hands on a towel hanging by the side of the worktop.

Hermione knew she still needed to talk to Sophie about the picture she had drawn at school. It wasn’t something she felt comfortable about tackling but she had no choice, and she might as well get it over and done with rather than putting it off. It was something she had always known she was going to need to discuss eventually, after all. She took the picture out of her bag and looked at it again, shaking her head.

She went into the lounge, where Sophie was sitting on the sofa. Apparently, she had already chosen the book she wanted to read although Hermione was fairly certain she had some homework to do first. She went and sat down with her daughter, stroking Boots as he climbed onto her lap.

‘I’m sorry we didn’t get a chance to talk about the picture you drew for me earlier, Sophie.’

Sophie shrugged uncaringly. ‘We were a bit busy with Fred and everything.’

‘We were,’ Hermione agreed. ‘But I’d like to talk about it now. Do you want to tell me about it? It really is a very good picture.’

She opened the picture and laid it on the coffee table in front of them.

Sophie beamed for a moment at the compliment, then said, ‘Miss Cheston asked us to draw a picture of our family.’

‘Okay. I understand that. But what you’ve drawn—’

‘That’s you,’ Sophie pointed to a slightly triangular figure with wildly curly hair.

‘Well, you definitely got my hair just right,’ Hermione said with a smile.

‘This is me,’ Sophie continued. She pointed to a shorter figure with straight blonde hair.

‘Looks just like you,’ Hermione quipped.

Sophie looked at her almost indignantly and Hermione laughed, poking her tongue out at her. Eventually, after a couple of seconds, Sophie laughed, too.

‘So who are they?’ Hermione asked, indicating the other two figures in the picture.

Sophie pursed her lips for a moment as if readying herself to speak, then she pointed to the tallest figure, who also had blond hair. ‘That’s my daddy.’

Hermione could feel her heart clench at the tone of her daughter’s voice. Someone so young shouldn’t sound so bereft. She pushed Boots off her lap and scooped Sophie into her arms, cuddling her tightly.

‘Why haven’t I got a daddy?’ Sophie asked. Her voice was quiet and quavering as if she was on the verge of tears. ‘Everyone at my school has a daddy apart from me.’ She paused for a moment, then asked, ‘Didn’t he like me?’

Hermione felt tears spring into her own eyes as her heart broke for her daughter. What could she say to this little girl who was so clearly missing the father she had never even known — would never know if Hermione had her way?

It had never occurred to her that Sophie would see the lack of a father as her fault, that she would believe she was to blame for him not being there. How could she tell Sophie that her father didn’t even know she existed, that Hermione had kept her pregnancy a secret from him specifically because she didn’t want him in their life? That wasn’t fair to the child and wouldn’t do anything to boost her self-esteem.

‘Your daddy loved you very much, Sophie,’ Hermione lied quietly, still holding her daughter as she talked. ‘But unfortunately, he couldn’t stay with us. He had to go away and I don’t know if he’ll ever be able to come back.’

‘Do you want him to come back, Mummy?’ Sophie’s tone was hopeful but anxious as if she was worried that Hermione might say no.

Hermione crossed her fingers. ‘Of course I do, darling. But I think it’s very unlikely so I try not to think about it and I try to give you the best life I can. You mean the world to me, Sophie. You are the most wonderful thing about your father.’

‘I didn’t want Miss Cheston to know I don’t have a daddy,’ Sophie said quietly. ‘That’s why I drew him in the picture . . . and my sister.’

Hermione gave a silent sigh. Of course — the mythical sister that Sophie wanted so desperately.

‘Sophie, has anyone said anything to you about you not having a daddy?’ Hermione asked, suddenly suspicious. She couldn’t help wondering whether some untoward comment had kicked off Sophie’s unexpected longing for a father.

‘No. All my friends know I don’t have one. But I didn’t know why I didn’t. I thought it was my fault.’

Hermione cuddled her tightly again.

‘It is definitely not your fault, Sophie. You have a daddy who loves you every bit as much as Harry loves James and Albus, he just can’t be with us. It doesn’t mean you aren’t loved.’

‘Does he have blond hair like me?’ Sophie asked.

Hermione nodded. ‘Yes. You are very much like him.’ She paused for a couple of seconds, then said, ‘I know you want to talk about him, Sophie, but thinking about him makes me a bit sad. That’s why I haven’t mentioned him to you before. Please know that I love you and your daddy loves you, but now I think we need to get on with some reading otherwise it’s going to be time for bed and we won’t have got anything done. What do you think?’

Sophie thought about it for a couple of seconds, then hugged Hermione.

‘I’m sorry for making you unhappy, Mummy.’

‘You haven’t, darling,’ Hermione assured her. ‘Now, what have we got to read?’

Sophie picked up the book to show her.

‘ _The Wind in the Willows_. That’s a good book,’ Hermione said approvingly. ‘But haven’t you got a school book to read first?’

‘It’s not as good as this one,’ Sophie said.

‘Probably not, but we need to read it anyway. Go and get it out of your bag, please. The sooner we start, the sooner we can move on to Ratty, Mole and Mr Toad.’

Sophie sprang from the sofa, scaring Boots, who fled from the room. A few seconds later she was back, waving a large picture book in the air.

‘Okay, let’s do this,’ Hermione said, trying to sound more enthusiastic than she actually felt.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Hermione stared at the envelope. She had been looking at it for almost fifteen minutes now, knowing that she shouldn’t open it, that no good would come from doing so. The stupid thing was that she was only considering doing it because Sophie had been so upset earlier.

Even so, it wouldn’t make any difference. Sophie’s father wasn’t a part of their lives and she had no intention of ever making him one; there was no point in dredging up the past and making herself completely unstable again just because her daughter was so desperate for a proper family like the rest of her classmates had.

It wouldn’t work anyway, but Hermione knew she had a more selfish reason for wanting to keep Sophie to herself. Her daughter was the only reason she was still alive, was the sole purpose for her getting up every morning, and it took a lot of hard work to keep herself going, to keep herself happy and alert for her daughter.

Revisiting the past would only reopen old wounds that were better off staying firmly sealed. Hermione knew her sanity had always hung by the flimsiest of threads and she couldn’t risk failing Sophie now, which was a strong possibility if she opened the envelope and followed what she found inside.

The problem was that Hermione had needs, strong needs, that she spent almost every moment of every day trying to subjugate in favour of her daughter’s welfare. But just occasionally she had no choice but to let off steam, and at least this way she knew what she was letting herself in for.

For a moment she considered discussing it with her friends, but she already knew what they would say. Ron still hadn’t forgiven her for last time and she had only spoken to him a handful of times since he had discovered the identity of Sophie’s father; his disgust at her choice of sire was almost enough to end their friendship forever. Harry and Ginny hadn’t been anywhere near as surprised. In fact, Hermione got the impression that Harry had almost expected it, although that wasn't as reassuring as she had hoped.

She couldn’t even talk to her Healer about it as she didn’t have another appointment until the end of next month. Scheduling an earlier appointment would flag up her current instability and might be enough to trigger all sorts of unwanted attention, particularly focussing on her care of Sophie. But with the anxiety and stress she was currently undergoing it would be impossible for her to stay her hand until the time of her scheduled appointment.

It was complete madness for her to open the envelope, but as hard as she tried to resist Hermione knew she would end up doing it. Her sanity demanded it of her at the same time as it tried to distance her from the pull of it. The letter being in the flat was tearing her apart, but however hard she tried she knew she would never destroy it. She couldn’t. She was bound to it.

For the first time in a long time Hermione wished she had some alcohol to bolster her in what she was about to do, but there was still none in the flat, there hadn’t been for more than six years now. She could feel the anxiety building up on both sides: the problems if she opened it, and the fears and doubts that threatened to overwhelm her if she didn’t. Madness threatened whichever way she chose, so there was no good reason for her not to do it.

She slid her finger under the flap, feeling the edges part company with ease. Once it was open she stared at it again, her heart beating double time, her head swimming at what she was about to do.

 _Just throw it away. This is your last chance,_ the little voice in her head warned her shrilly.

Hermione pulled open the flap and with shaking hands, she removed the folded parchment. She stared at it for several long seconds, licking her lips anxiously as she plucked up the courage to open it, to read the words she was already certain it would contain.

Eventually, she unfolded the letter and stared at the elegant handwriting, tears already coursing down her face as she read the words contained within.

_My darling Hermione,_

_I hope you are not too upset at me contacting you again on this, the occasion of the tenth anniversary of my incarceration in this insidious place. My fervent hope is that in the years since our last encounter you have managed to live a fruitful and productive life, full of joy and peace. I can only hope that our meeting last time proved beneficial to you._

_I have missed you so much, my love, and feel no shame in admitting that a majority of my time is spent thinking of and missing you. You are the golden light that sustains me in this terrible place, and as each year goes by I grow ever more penitent over the wrong I did you all those years ago._

_Love is not enough of an explanation nor is it sufficient for my repentance, but this you already know as I have spoken of it to you previously. I am still willing to do whatever you want of me in order to prove that I am truly sorry for the way I treated you at a time when I should have been providing succour and respite from the pain you were already suffering. I would welcome the chance to see and talk to you once again if only to reassure you of my good intentions._

_You are still the only person to have ventured forth to see me since my incarceration and I cannot begin to explain my gratitude for your kindness in the face of my brutality towards you. Please be assured that my ardour for you is as strong as it ever was. Even one moment spent in your delicious company is enough to sustain me through several years of solitude._

_I know you do not have to consider me as I am sure you have many more important things to take up your time, but I am hopeful that if you are reading this you will contemplate coming to see me, even for the briefest of visits. To see your beautiful face, and to apologise once more in person, would be the most wonderful anniversary gift I could ever desire._

_Please, my love, I beg of you just a few minutes of your precious time as you are always in my heart._

_With my eternal love,_

_Your Lucius_


	11. PART THREE - CHAPTER TWO

Hermione strode rapidly across the cobbled courtyard towards the door to the main prison block. Having been there before she already knew the way and wanted to get inside, out of the cold and rain before she had a chance to change her mind and chicken out completely.

She had risked so much to come here again and she wasn’t going to let her fear conquer what she needed to do, but with the terrible weather, she didn’t want to stand around waiting for one of the guards or the warden to come and get her.

It was astonishing how cold Azkaban was, although being in the middle of the inhospitable North Sea it probably shouldn’t have come as a surprise. But while she had come from glorious, almost tropical temperatures in the south-east of England, up here it was almost cold enough for snow. The miserable squall that greeted her arrival seeped through her cloak, chilling her right through to her bones.

Hermione pressed the bell, stamping her cold feet as she waited for the door to open and a guard to allow her admittance to the dismal building beyond. She knew she was expected — no one visited Azkaban without an appointment, or without an important reason for going there.

When she had visited Lucius here before, Hermione tried to imagine what the prison had been like when he was incarcerated after being caught in the failed raid at the Ministry of Magic. Azkaban was completely different then, with the Dementors acting as guards rather than the all-wizard population as was now the case.

Hermione knew from Sirius’ descriptions of the place that it would have been like hell on earth to be imprisoned here, particularly with inmates like the insane witch Bellatrix Lestrange and her husband for company. It would be enough to turn anyone mad — even Sirius hadn’t been completely sane immediately after his escape.

Knowing how grim the current incarnation of Azkaban was — and by all accounts it was almost a haven of peace and tranquillity compared to the Dementor years — Hermione could understand how Lucius had left the prison broken and unhinged, and how hard he must have worked to keep his insanity hidden from his friends and loved ones.

She still wasn’t sure how that insanity had eventually translated itself into an obsession with her although she suspected his incarceration here had contributed to his state of mind at the time. But even more than a decade after she had been physically rescued from Malfoy Manor she was still just as much in thrall to the blond man as she had been during her imprisonment.

Even now, despite everything she had been through and everything she had done to try to escape, Hermione was still bound to Lucius Malfoy and suspected that, unfortunately, she always would be.

The door opened and a grey-clad figure peered out at her suspiciously, not seeming to care that she was being lashed by freezing rain and a desperate gale.

‘Can I come in?’ she asked.

Almost reluctantly the guard stepped back, holding open the door to allow Hermione entrance. The thick metal door clanged shut behind her, abruptly cutting off the sound of the storm. The dark and silent corridor was almost warm after exposure to the violent weather outside.

The brusque man directed Hermione down a long corridor to a small office on the right-hand side that housed the visitors’ reception. She set off down the grim passageway, already feeling a little claustrophobic and glad that she was only visiting.

Even though it wasn’t anywhere near as bad as it had been the last time she was here, which had been pretty grim — and that was still better than it had been under the Dementors — she really didn’t feel comfortable being here, and that was without her feelings and anxieties about Lucius bearing down on her.

‘Is Guard Flatworthy here today?’ Hermione asked once she arrived in the visitor’s reception area and hung up her soaking cloak on one of the wall pegs. ‘He’s expecting me. My name’s Hermione Granger — I’m here to see Lucius Malfoy.’

The young guard behind the desk nodded in recognition. Pleasantly he answered, ‘Ah, yes, Miss Granger. Ted mentioned that you were coming in today. He’s down in C Block at the moment but he should be back in about fifteen minutes if you want to wait for him.’ He indicated to a couple of padded seats. ‘You can sit there while you wait. Do you want a cup of tea? I expect you’re freezing after being out in that storm.’

Hermione smiled and said gratefully, ‘A cup of tea would be wonderful, thank you. It’s horrible out there.’

The guard disappeared into the office behind the reception counter, leaving Hermione alone. She wandered over to the seats to look at the various posters that lined the walls of the room. They seemed to be a mixed bag, some containing warnings and rules about things like leaving your wand with the guard before visiting a prisoner or the penalties that would be levied if you were caught smuggling contraband items into the prison.

There was also a selection of wanted posters. Most were in the new minimalistic, almost art deco-inspired design that mirrored the style of the latest Ministry of Magic directives, but a few were still in the old design that Hermione remembered seeing all over Diagon Alley and throughout Hogsmeade after Sirius’ escape and just after Voldemort’s Death Eaters had escaped from Azkaban the first time.

Hermione shuddered when she saw the insane face of Bellatrix Lestrange silently sneering at her from one of the posters. She had forgotten how utterly scary the woman had been, her madness evident even then.

‘Here we go,’ the guard said. He was holding a mug out to Hermione. He followed her gaze. ‘Ah, the lovely Bellatrix — one of our more infamous inmates. She was sent here after the first wizarding war and escaped just before the second. She was killed at the Battle of Hogwarts.’

He sounded almost fond of the witch even though Hermione suspected he was too young to remember anything about her other than what he had learnt at school or from records in the prison itself.

‘I know. My best friend’s mother, Molly Weasley, was the one who killed her,’ Hermione said. ‘Bellatrix was completely insane.’

‘Not really surprising considering the number of years she spent in here under the Dementors,’ the guard pointed out.

Hermione frowned. ‘I think she was probably already pretty mentally deranged before she got arrested. She and her husband were sent here for destroying the parents of a friend of mine with the Cruciatus Curse, and you can’t tell me that’s normal behaviour.’

‘The Longbottoms, you mean,’ the guard said sympathetically. ‘Yes, it was a terrible thing that Bellatrix and her colleagues did. Molly Weasley did the world a great service getting rid of her.’

‘Have you worked here long?’ Hermione asked interestedly. ‘Don’t you find it a bit of a depressing place to work?’

The guard shrugged. ‘It’s not too bad, especially when I hear from some of the real old-timers about what it was like when the Dementors were here. This was definitely a much more challenging job in those days. Nowadays everything’s very modern and the prisoners are well treated and have regular counselling sessions with Healers, so there’s much less despair around.

‘Also, we don’t have to be here all the time, which helps a bit. There are six teams of guards and we work in shifts — three teams stay on the island at any one time and work in rotation. We’re here for a month, then the other teams relieve us and we return to the mainland for training and leave.

‘It’s very well paid because it’s classed as an unsociable job, and it doesn’t cost us anything while we’re here as all food and drink is provided — and obviously there’s nowhere to spend any money, so it’s a good chance to accrue a decent amount of cash in a short time. I’ve been here for about three years now.’

He took a sip of his tea and then, blushing, continued, ‘I recently got engaged so the money is going to come in useful to pay for the wedding and to get us a house. I think I’ll probably do another two or three years before giving it up and moving back to the mainland permanently.

‘Cerys, my fiancée, is quite happy for me to continue here as she’s busy training to be a Healer, so we wouldn’t get to spend much time together at the moment anyway. Much better that I rack up a few Galleons working here to give us a good start once she finally qualifies.’

‘I think it’s changed a bit since I was last here,’ Hermione said. ‘It seems slightly less bleak.’

‘When did you last come here?’ the guard asked.

‘Five years ago,’ Hermione said quietly.

He nodded. ‘The Minister for Magic decided to change things a bit, especially as we have so many long-term prisoners — all those old Death Eaters that are going to be stuck in here for decades. He wanted to make the place more hospitable as it was still a bloody awful place even after they got rid of the Dementors. Those criminals may have done some terrible things but they’re still wizards and deserve a minimum standard of living.    

‘They’ve been slowly working on doing the prison up since just after I started working here, redecorating the communal areas in slightly more soothing tones and adding things like this reception area to make it more appealing to visitors, although we still don’t get very many as it’s such a difficult trip and the weather is so inhospitable most of the time. They’ve even put plants out in the grounds, around the prisoners’ exercise compound, but they don’t tend to last very well with the inclement weather.

‘The cells have all been properly cleaned out and refurbished to quite a good standard, especially compared to what they used to be like. Long-term prisoners and those with the money to pay, like your friend Malfoy, actually have quite a comfortable existence these days — although they do have to earn their privileges with good behaviour.

‘As long as the prisoners don’t cause any trouble they pretty much get a quiet life, but one slip and all privileges they may have built up are revoked completely, and that includes things like cell decoration and all those things that make their incarceration that little bit less dreary.

‘Your friend is a model prisoner, though. I don’t think we’ve ever had any trouble with him, certainly not since I’ve been here anyway. I suspect, considering how lavish his cell is, he’s had many years of privileges built up.’

‘I don’t think he ever has caused any trouble,’ Hermione acknowledged. ‘I know he already regretted everything he had done before he was even sent here so he was never going to create trouble. He just wants to do his time and get out.’

The guard chuckled. ‘He’s still got a long way to go yet — another fifteen years unless he gets early release, and that’s not likely considering he was a Death Eater. No one’s inclined to go easy on those bastards whether they’ve repented or not.’

The door opened and another guard entered the room. Hermione smiled when she recognised the dour countenance of the bluff northern guard, Ted Flatworthy.

‘Ye’ve arrived then, lass. How was yer journey?’ he asked as he shook Hermione’s hand warmly. ‘Are yer all right to wait another couple of minutes while I have a cuppa?’

‘Of course I am, Ted,’ Hermione told him. ‘The journey wasn’t too bad but the weather is foul out there today. My cloak is absolutely soaked through.’

The other guard left them, returning a couple of minutes later with a mug of tea for Ted.

Ted smiled as he surveyed Hermione. ‘It’s good to see yer, Hermione, and yer looking reet well, too — better than yer were the last time I saw yer, any road. I take it things are going well for yer?’ He took a sip of his tea, sighed happily, then added, ‘Lucius is going to be reet made up to see yer lookin’ so good.’

‘How is he?’ Hermione asked, hoping she wasn’t blushing.

She knew Ted Flatworthy had been Lucius’ main guard since he arrived in Azkaban a decade before and that the two men had become quite close over the years. She wasn’t sure if the guard knew about what had happened between her and Lucius on her last visit but suspected it was possible as Lucius had no one else to talk to apart from his Healers and Azkaban didn’t seem to be the place for secrets.

‘’E’s his usual self,’ Ted said with a noncommittal shrug. ‘I think ’e was hoping his son might finally come to see ’im but there ain’t been no sign of ’im so far. ’E hasn’t had any visitors since you last came.’

Hermione thought Ted’s tone was slightly reproachful; surely he didn’t expect her to visit more regularly, did he?

‘I haven’t seen Draco for years, not since before Lucius was sent here, so I can’t really say why he hasn’t been to see him. But I know they weren’t getting on very well at that time so maybe that’s stopped him from coming.’     

‘Aye, well, it’s a reet shame that ’e’s let an argument stop him from seeing ’is dad. It’s not right having family disharmony like that.’

‘Draco was very close to his mother so I expect that had something to do with his decision. I doubt very much that Narcissa wanted to see Lucius and I expect Draco feels the same way,’ Hermione told him.

She was feeling a bit jittery as talking about Draco and Narcissa brought back memories of the past that she had tried so hard to bury. Her time as a Malfoy had been a different life, one that she spent all her time trying to forget had happened in order to keep her sanity.

Ted noticed Hermione’s awkwardness and realised they were drifting into unwanted territory. He took a final swallow of his tea, placed the mug on the counter and rubbed his thin hands together as if trying to get warm.

‘Are yer ready to go, lass?’ he asked gently.

Hermione nodded and put her mug on the counter, too, then Ted ushered her out into the corridor.

‘I am glad yer decided to come back, Hermione,’ Ted told her as they walked. ‘I know it’s difficult for yer . . . after everything Lucius put yer through . . . but ’e really does think the world of yer and ’e finds it a bit of a struggle sometimes, especially as ’e never gets any other visitors.’

‘I had to come,’ Hermione said, ‘but I can’t make it a regular thing, Ted. I’m sorry. I still have too many issues to deal with, too many things that make it hard.’

Ted smiled sympathetically. ‘I know tha’, lass. But occasionally is better than never, and for Lucius, sommat is better than nowt.’

‘I shouldn’t come to visit him, though,’ Hermione said. She suddenly realised she sounded upset, which worried her a little. She hadn’t realised she was feeling so emotional. ‘After what he did—’

‘Aye, it were a terrible thing what happened to yer, but ye’ve a good heart on yer, Hermione, and yer forgiveness is what makes this world a better place.’

‘I’m not sure I have forgiven him, though,’ Hermione said quietly.

Ted studied her for a moment, then nodded sagely. ‘Understandable, that. But if yer haven’t yet, yer definitely getting there.’

They stopped outside Lucius’ cell, and Hermione waited while the guard retrieved the key from the ring and used his wand to break the charms warding the door.

‘How long do I have?’ Hermione asked as she handed Ted her wand.

A moment of panic caused her heart to beat faster at the thought of being alone and unprotected with Lucius. Then she remembered that he, too, had no wand and Ted would be just outside the door, so there wasn’t anything to worry about.

‘How long d’ yer want?’ he asked. Hermione shrugged, not sure she could answer. Ted, understanding, patted her hand and gave her a warm smile. ‘Yer take as long as yer like. When yer ready to leave, bang on t’ door and I’ll let yer out. I’ll be waiting outside the whole time so don’t yer worry about disturbing me.’

‘Thank you, Ted.’

He gave her another smile. ‘It’ll be fine, Hermione. Don’t yer worry about nowt, lass.’

Hermione wished she could accept Ted’s advice but she knew her world was on a knife’s edge again. She had to see Lucius now she was here although part of her still desperately wanted to run away. She had no idea how the encounter would go or what state she would find herself in once it was over.

She suddenly wished she had warned Harry and Ginny what she was doing so they would be there to support her and Sophie in the aftermath, just in case it did all go horribly wrong, but she hadn’t because she had known they wouldn’t approve and would try to talk her out of coming, so it was too late now.

‘Are yer ready?’ Ted asked gently, seeing Hermione’s anxious expression.

Hermione bit her lip, took a deep breath and nodded.

‘Yes.’

Ted opened the door and Hermione walked into the cell.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Hermione knew she was in serious trouble. If she was honest, it had been building for quite some time, but as usual she had done an excellent job of hoodwinking herself until it was too late to do anything sensible to help herself recover. Even after all these years her default setting was self-destruct, and once again she was doing a massively good job of it.

She picked up her mug of tea and wandered through to the lounge. She took a mouthful before placing it on the coffee table, then moved several of Sophie’s books before sitting on the sofa. The cat appeared as if by magic and instantly made himself at home on her lap. Everything was silent with the exception of Boots' faint purring as Hermione gently stroked him.

Hermione picked up the honeybush and vanilla tea and took another sip, trying to convince herself that it tasted as good as an alcoholic drink would right now. She still felt those old cravings and it was at times like this when her mood was at its lowest ebb and she was alone in the house that she had to be careful not to step off the path and sink back into the mire.

Normally Hermione was proud of her achievement — almost twelve years without a drop of alcohol _was_ something to be proud of considering how many highs and lows the path of her life had taken. But on days like today — and recently all her days had been like today — it all seemed like a pointless waste of time; like she would have done better just to go and get drunk somewhere.

Hermione knew what the problem was, had known deep inside what it was ever since April and Sophie’s tenth birthday, but she had no idea what she was going to do about it or how she could stop things from deteriorating rapidly, which they already were and most assuredly would continue to do if she took no action to help herself.

Talking about it wasn’t going to help — it never had for her, really, however much anyone else tried to convince her it would. It just made her feel even more under pressure; the need to perform in the ‘normal’ way people expected her to act was almost overwhelming in itself. People who thought that talking about issues was enough to banish the problem had never undergone anything nearing the level of depression that she battled with on a daily basis.

As Hermione aged, the sympathy that had once been relatively forthcoming from her friends and colleagues had begun to wane and she knew that they found her ‘episodes’, as Ginny called them, frustrating and wearing. She often got the impression that everyone thought she should just get over herself and stop being such a drama queen; as if it was as easy as closing a door on the past and forgetting all the bad stuff.

It wasn’t that easy. It never had been and now, with her life in decline again, it was becoming ever more difficult to hold on to what was normal, to live her life as a useful and productive human being.

Recently she had found herself telling people what they wanted to hear not what her real thoughts were, including the Healer she was now seeing on a quarterly basis — lying once again in order to allow her friends to feel better about themselves.

The last time she had spoken to the Healer was just before Sophie’s birthday before the latest black mood had really begun to take hold. She still had another six weeks before she was due to see him again as his holiday schedule had pushed her appointment back by a few weeks.

Getting out of bed and dealing with life had been a problem for Hermione for so many years, albeit with Sophie to look after and care for she had, most times, managed to sweep her bad feelings under the carpet and get on with her day because she had no choice, and because her daughter gave her that most important spark of life she needed to carry on.

Most days it had been hard, some days it had been almost impossible, but she had always managed to do it, however hard the tears had fallen at the end of the day as she lay in bed alone and lonely.

She’d had help, particularly in the form of Harry and Ginny and Molly and Arthur, who had held her up when she was slipping and were there to take care of Sophie on the extremely odd occasion when she couldn’t manage alone. But now the dark place was rushing back, ready to crash upon her shore like a tidal wave, and Hermione was in danger of drowning before anyone could even throw her a lifebelt.

Sophie had been the light of her life for the ten years she had been alive, and despite Ron’s disgust with Hermione over Lucius being the father — which he had fortunately never shown in front of Sophie — Hermione had never regretted one single moment with her daughter nor had she ever had cause to regret her decision to keep her.

But Sophie’s birthday had triggered a reminder that her daughter was growing up, that they only had one more year together before her letter arrived from Hogwarts. Although Sophie’s magic had been showing in small ways for years it finally hit Hermione that in just over another year she would be on the verge of losing her baby; her reason for getting up in the morning would be gone forever.

For Hermione, the idea of Sophie going off to Hogwarts wasn’t one of excitement and anticipation as it already was for both her daughter and Harry and Ginny’s son James. The two of them were already discussing which Houses they wanted to be Sorted into.

James was adamant that he would be put in Gryffindor like his parents, whereas Sophie could never decide where she wanted to be and mainly wavered between Gryffindor and Ravenclaw — although Hermione wondered whether she was too much like her father and might end up being a Slytherin.

Even Harry and Ginny, and to a lesser extent Ron and Lavender, were caught up in the fever —weighing in with their tales of life at Hogwarts and of all the fun the two youngsters were sure to have when they finally took their places there. Hermione joined in with the conversation but all the time there was a sense of nausea, a lump of cold dread in her stomach, an unasked-for trepidation about what she was going to do when Sophie was no longer at home with her.

She had mentioned it once in passing, making light of it in a conversation at the Burrow when all the Weasley women were gathered together for one of their regular coffee mornings. Advice laughingly given on what to do had ranged from a slight touch of jealousy that Hermione would finally have time to herself — the others all still having children who weren’t anywhere near Hogwarts age — to suggestions that she should consider going back to work. No one had picked up on Hermione’s anxiety or considered that Sophie's leaving might be a much bigger deal for her than their children going to school was for them.

In fact, for Hermione, it was a massive great mountain of pain that she had no idea how to scale, and she was fairly certain she didn’t have the right tools for the job. As spring moved towards summer Hermione found her mood darkening ever more as she tried to imagine being on her own without Sophie to keep her sane.

The truth was that she was scared, terrified that being alone would plunge her into the sort of depression she had worked so hard to avoid for the last decade. She didn’t think that getting a job — even if she could find one she liked — or taking up a hobby — Merlin only knew what — was going to help. She could already feel the earth moving beneath her and knew it wouldn’t take much for the landslide to begin.

Sophie had already become more independent over the last year, spending time away from home to stay with James and his various siblings and cousins at the Burrow during school holidays and even just for weekends. Molly loved having them all to stay, as did Arthur although he would never admit it, and Hermione couldn’t begrudge her beautiful, carefree daughter the chance to have fun with her friends, however much she felt the urge to keep her locked away at home where it was just the two of them. That sort of restrictive love was damaging; who knew that better than her?

It was for this reason, too, that Hermione knew she had to let her daughter go to Hogwarts although every fibre of her being urged her to keep Sophie at home. If she stopped Sophie from going she would be no better than Lucius although without all the various types of abuse; the last thing she wanted was to be compared to the man who even now dominated her life far more than he should.

But just like a bad penny, and seemingly timed to coincide with her descent into melancholia, Lucius once again came back onto her radar with yet another letter to celebrate his fifteenth year in Azkaban. The tone this time was far more light-hearted and less romantic than in his previous epistles although he was still advocating regret for his prior treatment of her and still swearing undying love.

Hermione was horrified at how happy the letter's arrival made her feel although that emotion was tempered somewhat by the usual despair and loathing followed shortly after by the self-loathing that always accompanied the receipt of one of his letters. The problem was that as always she couldn’t ignore it and she couldn’t help the surging rush of need that filled her in a way that never failed to make her feel ashamed when it happened.

How could one stupid piece of parchment do so much to derail her and send her spiralling into the abyss of despair she had spent so long fighting her way out of? Why was she so helpless to reject what his missives made her feel, both the pain of remembrance and the exultation of his continuing desire for her?

Just the thought of Lucius made her feel sick, but at the same time there was that dizzy feeling that kept her dancing on the edge of the precipice, even knowing that one false step would send her toppling to her certain doom.

Hermione knew she would go and see Lucius eventually; she wouldn’t be able to stop herself any more than she had been able to the previous times. It was almost as if she was punishing herself, the penance she had to suffer for continuing to exist when by rights she should have been long dead.

She wasn’t sure that seeing Lucius locked away in his nice comfortable cell, even as repentant and dismayed as he was about his previous behaviour helped her at all, but it didn’t matter — she would still go, and she would give in to that nihilistic urge that Harry and Ginny had spent so long trying to steer her away from and that Ron could never forgive her for.

Hermione grimaced as a sip of her tea revealed that it was cold. The stuff was bad enough when it was hot, although apparently good for her. She moved Boots from her lap and stood up, heading for the kitchen to put on the kettle, trying to decide between another tea and hot chocolate. Neither appealed as much as the idea of a drink — a real drink — but that wasn’t happening tonight, however upset she might be feeling.

Ten minutes later saw her returned to the lounge, the hot chocolate resting on the coffee table as Hermione re-read Lucius’ letter, the first inkling of an idea planting itself like a tiny parasitic seed in her brain. It was ridiculous, and she already knew it was completely wrong to even consider it, but with her depression set to come crashing down on her at any time it was the glimmer of light she had been searching for in the darkness.

Hermione dropped the letter onto the coffee table and picked up the mug, cradling the warm ceramic in her hands as she blew on the still hot liquid contained within to cool it. What she was considering was pure madness in every sense, but now the thought had taken hold she couldn’t stop thinking about it. Harry and Ginny wouldn’t be happy and Ron would probably stop talking to her completely, but Hermione suspected that Lavender would still be her friend.

She could already hear the berating tone of Healer Osgood warning her against doing something so foolish — so damaging to her still fragile grip on reality. But she had already done it once, so why shouldn’t she do it again?

Finished with her hot chocolate, Hermione went to the bathroom to brush her teeth and wash her face before going to bed. She looked at herself in the mirror. She didn’t look bad for a thirty-four-year-old, especially one who had been through as much as she had. If anything, she probably looked better now than she had back in her early twenties.

However, if she studied her face she could see the start of the dark circles under her eyes caused by insomnia that had begun again over the last few months and the dullish tinge to her skin where she hadn’t taken care of it as well as she used to, the colour leaching from her as misery slowly overwhelmed her.

The warnings that she was in decline were there for others to see if only anyone cared to look closely enough but Hermione wasn’t sure anyone did any longer. It had been a long time since she last posed enough of a threat for her friends to seriously worry about her and they had let down their guards.

As she lay in bed Hermione contemplated further the idea that had come to her earlier, trying to be rational about it and consider it from all sides rather than just latching onto it because it seemed like the perfect solution to her problems. Even if she put aside all considerations, whether positive or negative, she had to remember she was only going to have one shot and it might not happen anyway.

She tried to imagine what her mood would be like if that scenario came to pass and she shivered. Of all the things that could occur, trying and failing would be the worst thing that could happen. Better that she not try in the first place rather than build up her hopes only to have them dashed. Then, the darkness that the small pinprick of light had been holding at bay would overwhelm and smother her, taking her to a place from which she might not be able to return this time.   

But if she succeeded, everything could be like before, as it was when she first had Sophie — the despondency and gloom pushed away indefinitely as the bright light of a new baby filled her with hope and a love so strong that she could rise above anything. Just thinking of the possibility was enough to give Hermione a boost and she preferred this more optimistic mood than anything she had experienced over the last few months.

Of course, disclosing to Sophie what was happening was the most important thing she would have to do and she would need to get it absolutely right, but Hermione was certain her daughter still yearned for a sibling even after all these years.

It was going to be hard to explain, though, especially as it might once again stir up Sophie’s feelings about her father. She had never once mentioned him since their talk about the family picture she had drawn when she was four. Hermione had no idea whether Sophie still thought about him and hoped that he might one day return or had given up any expectation of ever getting to know him.

Whichever was the case, Hermione knew it was going to be difficult for Sophie to accept that her mother had seen her father but hadn’t allowed her access to him. She wished she could explain, could tell her daughter the truth about why she wasn’t willing to allow Lucius into their lives, but if she was honest, she was no longer entirely sure now why she hadn’t told him about Sophie.

Undoubtedly, to begin with, it was because she had wanted to keep her daughter to herself, selfishly hoarding her in order to keep herself sane. There was no way she had wanted Lucius any further in her life than he already was, especially when a Half-blood child was involved. But by the time of her last visit things had begun to change between them, and knowing how Lucius felt about her Hermione now believed she was actually being kind to him by not mentioning that they had a child together.

At the time Sophie was born Lucius still faced another two decades in prison and Hermione had found herself imagining how she would have felt had she known her daughter existed but been unable to see her throughout the whole of her childhood. Having not mentioned it at the time, it was hard to admit what had happened when she saw him five years later, so the visit had passed with Lucius none the wiser about his part in Hermione’s resurrection — which was just as she wanted it.

Returning in the hope that he might give her another baby without telling him what was happening was probably slightly unethical, but once again Lucius would be helping to stave off that which he had created in the first place — she would never have suffered years of depression if it hadn’t been for him. But she couldn’t tell him about a new baby without informing him about Sophie and she still had no intention of letting him into their lives, so that was a non-starter as far as Hermione was concerned.

She was still conflicted when she finally fell into a fitful sleep, her dreams full of arguments and recriminations.

By the time she awoke her mood had descended even further. Desolation overwhelmed her, so much so that she had trouble forcing herself out of bed, wanting nothing more than to curl up and hide from the pain that was eating her up from the inside-out.

However, she still had Sophie to look after, as always. This morning she had to take her daughter to an appointment with the dentist, an old habit from Hermione’s Muggle life that she had never changed even though she and her daughter were no longer part of that world, before dropping her off at school, so they needed to get going shortly. Then she had to face the Weasley wives and another round of gossip.

Hermione forced herself out of bed and plastered on her happy face, ready to lie to the world once more.          


	12. PART THREE - CHAPTER THREE

Hermione sighed when she saw the tall blond figure coming towards her through the park. Although she hadn’t seen him for almost two decades she recognised Draco Malfoy immediately. She glanced at the pram she was pushing and at the girl walking alongside her and wondered whether they could change course without him spotting them.

She could definitely do without the confrontation that would surely occur if they actually met up, but she knew it was too late. She couldn’t get away without it being obvious that she was trying to avoid him, and she was far too polite to let that happen. After all, he had once been kind to her.

Hermione could feel his gaze upon her and her daughter, his pale eyes also taking in the pram. Her stomach flipped with nervousness at the impending encounter and she wondered for a moment whether she should lie. It was a tempting thought but not one she could honestly entertain.

Although she hadn’t seen Draco Malfoy for many years it didn’t mean he didn’t know anything about her circumstances, especially as he worked at the Ministry of Magic just as Harry did, and she once had. It was quite possible that he knew all about her, and anyway, Sophie looked far too much like her father to be passed off as someone else’s child.   

Hermione tried to smile and be open and friendly as Draco came close, all the while hoping that he wasn’t going to become offensive. She wasn’t sure whether he held some residual dislike of her for what had happened at the end of her captivity; it was definitely possible that he hated her and blamed her for what had happened to his father in the aftermath of the war, despite the Malfoy males’ animosity towards each other at the end.

Also, it had to be a shock for him to see her daughter, knowing who the father had to be. Would it seem unbelievable to him considering what had happened in the past or would he, like Ron, expect nothing less from her?

‘Does my father know?’ Draco asked, trying to keep his surprise hidden.

He immediately realised that this probably wasn’t the politest greeting he could have come up with after meeting Hermione for the first time in Merlin only knew how many years, but then to be fair, he was genuinely shocked, and they had never really been friends. There had been that brief time at the beginning of her incarceration at Malfoy Manor when things had got better between them and they had almost become like brother and sister, but—

Draco pushed the thought away, the guilt rising in him as easily now as it had done back then. Now he couldn’t help but wonder whether he should have done as he had considered several times and tried to contact Hermione after she had been rescued and things had calmed down.

At the time he had been certain she wouldn’t want him intruding on her life after everything that had happened, reminding her of the bad times even though it wasn’t really his fault. He had spent the next decade and more assuming she had done her best to forget all about the Malfoys and wouldn’t want him stirring things up again. But if that was the case, then looking at the children it seemed she hadn’t succeeded all that well.

He couldn’t stop staring at Hermione and the child standing with her, who had to be her daughter and who was also quite clearly a Malfoy. How old was the girl? He couldn’t help but be astonished to find that she had children . . . especially these children.

Draco glanced inquisitively at the pram that Hermione was holding, wondering whether the baby had the same father as the girl and wondering what on earth had possessed Hermione to choose his father as the sire for her children after everything she had suffered at his hands.

Hermione bristled defensively. ‘No. I wasn’t likely to tell him, was I? How do you think he’d react to finding out that he’s become a father . . . twice?’

Draco gave a shrug. ‘I haven’t seen him since he went away so I’ve no idea where his sympathies lie these days. But the fact that you and he . . . .’ His voice trailed off, the sneer expressing his feelings more clearly than words ever could.

Hermione flushed but didn’t respond to Draco’s taunt. She stroked the top of her daughter’s blonde head, needing to get Sophie away before he said anything further that would cause her to ask awkward questions.

‘Go and play on the swings, Soph. I just need to talk to my friend for a few minutes. I’ll come and find you soon.’

Sophie nodded and happily skipped away to play on the swings as Hermione turned to Draco, waiting for him to say something.

‘Two of them?’ Draco leant over slightly to look at the baby who was sleeping peacefully under a soft white blanket.

Hermione nodded. ‘Hattie was born four months ago.’

‘And he really has no idea?’ Draco said in astonishment. ‘You’ve never said anything to him?’

‘No.’

This was said a little too quickly and forcefully, and Draco knew this meant Hermione felt guilty for keeping the children a secret from his father. He was still trying to work out why the hell she had even chosen the man in the first place. He had to be the most unlikely candidate for her affections ever.

Hermione shrugged, sighed, and said, ‘Why would I tell him something that’s going to hurt him?’

Draco gave a scowl. ‘Hurt him? You _use_ my father to sire your bastard Half-blood children and then worry about upsetting him? It’s a bit late for that, don’t you think?’

Hermione glared savagely at Draco for a moment, points of red on her cheeks as she tried to calm down. The pram moving a little more jerkily was the only clue that she was having trouble.

‘That isn’t what happened,’ she said quietly. ‘At least not with Sophie. She was an accident . . . but she’s been a real godsend to me.’ She bit her lip as if debating what to say. ‘Hattie _was_ planned, at least as much as I could plan anything considering the circumstances.’

‘I have to admit I’m rather surprised you’d want my father to give you children, Hermione,’ Draco said airily, ‘considering everything that happened.’

Hermione shrugged again. ‘Our relationship was always a bit strange,’ she said. ‘I couldn’t help but be affected by him . . . by the things that happened between us.’

‘ _Strange_. That’s something of an understatement, especially considering the things he did to you.’

‘Oh, I know, he did some terrible things,’ Hermione admitted quietly. ‘But in his twisted way it was because he wanted me to care for him.’

Draco snorted. ‘My father wanted affection from a Muggle-born? I don’t think so, Hermione.’

Biting back the urge to postulate that it was the only affection Lucius would have had with a family as stiff and cold as his, Hermione replied, ‘It’s true, Draco, whether you choose to believe it or not.’

‘So how on earth did you end up with the children?’ Draco asked. ‘I mean, he’s been in prison for sixteen years now. What on earth possessed you to go and see him?’

‘Shall we go and sit on the bench over there?’ Hermione asked, indicating an empty one near the swings. Without waiting for an answer from Draco she began to push the pram towards it, looking over at Sophie, who was in conversation with another girl who was also swinging. Draco followed her and sat down beside her once she had moved the pram into position and locked it.

‘Why did you go to see my father, Hermione?’ Draco asked, more softly this time.

This was something he really wanted to know because he couldn’t understand why Hermione would keep up contact with the man who had abused and almost killed her so many times, and he definitely couldn’t understand why she would choose to have children with him.

‘I told you there was something between us. The things he did . . . well . . . to be honest, I don’t think I was particularly sane for the first few years after the end of the war. I found it hard to readjust . . . to my freedom . . . to relationships . . . .’

‘So you went to see _him_ ,’ Draco said in dismay.

Hermione gave a small shrug. ‘Not at first. Then, I was happy to be away from him — finally free at last. But as time went on I began to realise that something was missing from my life, something taken away by your father, and by then it had been five years since Lucius was sent to prison. I was sure he’d had time to change, and to be honest I felt sorry for him being stuck away in that awful place with no visitors.’

‘How did you know he had no visitors?’ Draco sounded curious.

Hermione gave him a wistful smile. ‘He wrote to me, asking me to go and see him. The letter said he was sorry for everything that had happened and he wanted to see me so he could apologise to me properly. He told me he hadn’t seen anyone but the prison staff since the day he was taken to Azkaban.’

‘And you believed him?’ Draco asked with a snort of disbelief.

‘Of course I did. If there’s one good thing I can say about your dad, Draco, it’s that he’s never lied to me.’ She looked fiercely at the man next to her as if daring him to contradict her.

Draco shrugged carelessly. ‘Well, that could be true, I suppose. I mean, I’ve never been to see him and mother certainly hasn’t. She was pleased to be rid of him at last.’ His voice sounded dismissive.

‘He misses you,’ Hermione said quietly. ‘He always mentions you whenever I go to see him.’

‘ _Always_. Gods, how many times have you seen him?’ Draco enquired, trying not to sound too interested.

‘Three since he’s been in Azkaban,’ Hermione answered. ‘Although I did go to see him at the Ministry of Magic on the day he was taken away.’

‘Why?’ Draco scowled again, angry now. ‘That was only a few months after he’d done . . . after he’d imprisoned you. Why the hell did you go back to see him, Hermione? Why put yourself through all that pain again?’

Hermione gave a small shake of her head. ‘Dependency, I think,’ she said honestly, the frown deepening on her face. ‘As I said, I was pretty fucked up by what I’d been through and I was having trouble getting over it, and I honestly thought it would help. No one really understood what I was dealing with. I know Harry and Ron most certainly didn’t.’

‘Ah yes, Potty and the Weasel. How are they? You know, I always thought you and the Weasel would end up married for sure. Didn’t he want you after he found out you’d been fucking my father?’ Draco asked maliciously.

He wasn’t entirely sure why he was being so nasty to Hermione knowing what she had been through at the hands of his father, but for some reason he was angry with her for keeping in contact with the man.

Years of guilt over Draco’s abandonment of her when she had needed him most had slowly transformed until a little part of him, trying to deflect the guilt, began to wonder whether she had brought it on herself. It appeared her friends, Weasley and Potter, had obviously had similar thoughts.

Hermione looked unhappy. ‘You make it sound like I had a choice in the matter.’

Draco looked at her intently. ‘Are you sure you didn’t? You must have done something to make my father renege on his lifelong ideals. All those years he lectured me on the evils of filthy Mudbloods and how it was wrong to go anywhere near them, then suddenly he was fucking you. You must have done something to make him change his mind.’

Hermione looked shocked at the vehemence of Draco’s tone. She shook her head unhappily. ‘I swear I did nothing, Draco. You must know that, deep down, and surely you can remember what I was like at the time. Your father’s behaviour was as inexplicable to me as it was to you. It was repulsive, scary and painful. Whatever it was that we did, I can assure you it wasn’t willingly on my part. I just had an overwhelming desire to stay alive. Surely you can’t blame me for that — especially after what your father and his friends did to my parents?’

Ignoring the question, Draco retaliated, ‘Well, whatever it might have been then, it was certainly your choice to do it since he’s been in prison. He’s got no wand so he can’t have forced you into it. And you’ve got two daughters out of it.’

Hermione looked pained. ‘Since you weren’t there for the last days of the war you have no idea what I went through,’ she said accusingly. ‘Don’t you dare to presume to judge me because of what you _think_ you know and what little happened before you went back to school and deserted me. You have no idea what I suffered after you and your mother left me alone with him.’

‘So why did you go back to him if it was so bad?’ Draco demanded, trying once more to push down the guilt that was fighting its way back into his mind.

‘Because I can’t get away,’ Hermione admitted sadly. A tear rolled down her cheek and she brushed it away without thinking. ‘You’re right, to an extent, about Ron. Although he and Harry tried to understand what I’d been through, I couldn’t quite manage to get Ron to believe it wasn’t my fault — that I hadn’t somehow seduced your father.’ She looked disgusted at the thought, then gave a small, bitter laugh. ‘The whole time I was captive I dreamt of being with Ron — my protector, my rock — and when I finally got back to him he treated me as if I was the enemy. Even the cuts and bruises didn’t change his view.’

‘But what about Potter? Surely he talked to him?’

‘Yes, he did, and so did Ginny, but Ron is very stubborn when he sets his mind to something and he wasn’t budging on his viewpoint, however hard I tried to make him see reason. We never could overcome that hurdle so we gradually grew apart. Then he was reunited with Lavender and that was the end of things between us. Harry and Ginny got married; even Neville and Luna were in stable relationships. And then there was me, all alone and not in a very good place, to be honest. I had my work, but it wasn’t enough. I needed something more. Something to keep me living.’

‘So you decided to use my father to give you a child,’ Draco said, a touch bitterly.

‘No. Not at all. I was trying to put the past behind me, trying to make something of my life but failing miserably, when I got a letter from your dad requesting that I go and see him so he could apologise to my face. Stupidly, I thought that maybe if I went to see him it would exorcise the ghosts, lay to rest whatever it was that was stopping me from having a happy relationship with anyone else.’

‘And instead, you fucked him again.’

Hermione sighed. ‘Yes. Although it wasn’t quite so straightforward. But yes, I did end up having sex with him — and Sophie was the result. Totally unplanned, I assure you. The contraceptive charm failed.’

‘Yours or his?’ Draco asked sharply.

‘What? Oh . . . mine. I’ve no idea why, though. It’s never failed before. Anyway, at first, I was horrified, obviously, under the circumstances. But once I calmed down I began to realise that this might be my only chance for children. After all, how could I have a baby when I couldn’t even stay in a relationship for more than five minutes and wasn’t capable of looking after myself, let alone a tiny baby? And Lucius didn’t need to know about it. He was going to be in prison for another twenty years—’

‘But what right did you have to keep the baby without telling my father you were pregnant?’ Draco cut in angrily. ‘Imagine how he’ll feel when he finds he’s sired _two_ Half-blood children. You were wrong to keep the first from him, Hermione . . . and I really can’t believe you went back a second time.’

Hermione shrugged. ‘I never intended to have children. If you had seen what I was like at the time you would understand why. But when I became pregnant I soon realised that I couldn’t in all good conscience get rid of a perfectly healthy baby just because I hadn’t performed the contraceptive charm properly. It wasn’t fair to the poor thing to lose its life because I’d been careless, regardless of who the father was.

‘Once I got over the shock of realising I was pregnant I began to see it as my chance for salvation — the life I wanted so badly but just couldn’t seem to attain — but I really didn’t want anything more to do with your father.’

Draco looked as if he was about to speak but Hermione held up a hand to stop him.

‘When Sophie was born I convinced myself I’d done the right thing in having her. She was so beautiful, and she gave my life that extra something I so badly needed. There was no point in telling your dad. I didn’t intend to see him again, anyway — and as you’ve so kindly pointed out, there was a possibility that he wouldn’t have been best pleased to find he was the father to a Half-blood child; even then I still had no understanding of how his mind works. So I just got on with my life and tried to forget all about him.’

‘Until you decided you wanted another child. It took you long enough to decide that, didn’t it?’

‘Hattie came later . . . much later. Before that, I received another letter from your dad, just before the tenth anniversary of his incarceration.’

‘And you went to see him again?’ Draco looked incredulous. ‘And you didn’t tell him about Sophie?’

Hermione nodded. ‘Five years and a child had given me a new perspective on things, and there was still that pull. How could I refuse to visit him when I was still his only visitor? You never went to see him although he always hoped you would.’

Draco grimaced sourly, ‘So then you fucked him again? You must have known what he was after when he contacted you.’

Hermione gave a small bark of a laugh. ‘Of course I knew, Draco. I mean, he was hardly wanting a game of chess, was he? And being the slightly crazy single mother of a Malfoy child hadn’t exactly raised my prospects any in the romance stakes. So yes, I wanted a shag just as much as he did — dependency again, I suppose.

‘But this time I was determined not to have an accident. I used the strongest charm I could find, added a contraceptive potion to be on the safe side, and I even took the Muggle pill in case that worked, too. One child I could cope with alone, but two was a no-no, especially two fathered by Lucius, even though my little Sophie was desperate for a baby brother or sister.

‘Then it was done. The charms worked and we were both temporarily sated so I returned to my life — back to Sophie and the situation I found so much more rewarding now I had her to love and care for . . . and I put Lucius out of my mind once more.’

‘So when did you decide you wanted another child?’ Draco asked, finding himself more intrigued by the story than he had expected.

‘Do you have children?’ Hermione enquired.

Draco nodded. ‘One. A son, Scorpius. He’s nine.’

‘And a total Malfoy, no doubt?’ Hermione said with a small grin.

Draco laughed ruefully as he ran his fingers through his fine blond hair. ‘He does bear the family resemblance,’ he admitted, ‘as does your Sophie. You can certainly tell she’s a Malfoy.’

Hermione nodded. ‘She’s a lovely girl and very intelligent, although of course, I’d expect nothing less.’ She ignored the look Draco gave her at this comment.

‘So back to the story. Everything was going well and I was quite content with my life until one day I realised my baby was growing up. Her magic had started to show itself more strongly and it was clear that soon she would be going away to Hogwarts; she goes in September. The idea of being left alone again was unbearable. The feeling of desolation that spread through me like a flood at the idea of Sophie going away to school needed to be stemmed before it got out of control and I slipped into severe depression again.

‘At first I considered not sending her to Hogwarts, but of course, that wouldn’t be in Sophie’s best interest and I would be no better than Lucius. Then the opportunity presented itself. Your dad wrote again, a jokey letter this time, asking when I was going to visit for our “anniversary shag”, as he put it — after all, he was now on fifteen years in Azkaban. Suddenly the answer was obvious. If I was lucky I could have another baby, another child to look after while Sophie was away from me.’

‘So you went back a third time.’ Draco shook his head again. Dryly, he added, ‘My father must be doing something right to keep you going back considering your history together.’

‘Your dad is an excellent lover, actually,’ Hermione admitted, a flush of pink reaching her cheeks as she appeared to think about it. ‘And I think enough time has passed now to forget what happened in the beginning.’

‘I don’t need to know about my father’s sexual skills, thanks very much,’ Draco muttered. ‘So you went with the express intention of getting pregnant?’

‘Well, intention is too strong a word, I think,’ Hermione said. ‘After all, it wasn’t certain that it would happen and I was only going to have one shot. All I could do was to not use contraception and see what happened.’

Draco frowned. ‘Didn’t he ask whether you were using any? Or insist you perform a charm to be on the safe side?’

Hermione shook her head. ‘No. I’m not sure your father was particularly interested or concerned about contraception. Certainly, it would appear that the depth of his affection for me hasn’t changed in the last fifteen-odd years.’

Draco scowled. ‘His affection? If he’s really so affectionate towards you why don’t you tell him about the girls? Surely such an affectionate man would _love_ to have children with you.’

Hermione surveyed Draco for a moment. ‘That’s the point,’ she said simply. ‘And that’s why I didn’t want to hurt him by telling him.’

Draco looked confused.

‘I don’t think he would have been surprised to find out I was pregnant either time,’ she admitted. ‘But he’s locked away where he can’t see them and I certainly wouldn’t take them to that awful place to visit him. How do you think he would feel knowing he has two young daughters he can’t ever see? How much worse for him knowing about his children and not being able to see them grow up than not even knowing they exist?’

‘But at least he could see photographs, have some idea of what they are doing — although of course there’s still the problem of their blood status.’

‘As I said, I don’t think Lucius would mind that. He’s not the person you remember, Draco — not the man he was when he incarcerated me. But even then, I don’t think he was quite as staunch in his views as he pretended to be — let’s face it, he couldn’t have been otherwise he would never have touched me in the first place. But having made the initial choice not to tell him about Sophie, how could I bring it up ten years later? And I couldn’t suggest another child without mentioning the first.’

‘So you’ve left him in the dark all this time?’ Draco said in amazement. ‘Don’t you feel guilty about not telling him?’

Hermione sighed. ‘Of course I do, sometimes. But then I think about what difference it would have made and I’m not sure it would have made any. Certainly, nothing better would have come of telling him, and at the time of Sophie’s birth I really wanted to have nothing more to do with him and honestly thought I wouldn’t.’

‘So I have two sisters that I didn’t even know anything about,’ Draco said.

‘Half-sisters,’ Hermione corrected, ‘and you’re welcome to get to know them better if you want. I’m sure they’d love to get to know you although obviously, Hattie is a little young right now.’

‘Are you ever going to tell him?’ Draco asked curiously.

Hermione shrugged. ‘I expect I’ll have no choice eventually,’ she said, her voice quiet and sad. ‘I can’t believe they’ll keep him in prison much longer. He’s been a model prisoner and I think he truly does regret most if not all of the things he did as a Death Eater. And, of course, twenty years will be up soon and he’ll be eligible for parole and early release. When he gets out I’ll either have to take the girls and disappear off the face of the earth or tell him the truth because I’m sure he’ll want to see me when he’s released.’

Draco looked at Hermione gravely for a moment as if weighing things up.

‘I know my father,’ he said finally. ‘I think you should tell him before he’s released, give him a chance to come to terms with it before he finds out of his own accord. However you might think he feels about you, Hermione, you won’t want to feel his wrath if he finds out you’ve been deceiving him all this time.’

‘I’m not deceiving him,’ Hermione asserted. ‘I haven’t told him I don’t _have_ children, I’ve just omitted to tell him that I do and that he’s the father.’

‘A moot point, I think,’ Draco said sagely. ‘Knowing my father and his temper, he’ll assume you did it with the intention of hurting him and you of all people know how he can be when he loses it. In fact, knowing what he can do, it amazes me that you would even chance to hide it from him.’

He looked across at where Sophie was now playing on the roundabout with several other children, then back at Hermione. ‘You should tell him for Sophie and Hattie’s sake, too. They deserve to have a father — even mine — especially if he’s changed as much as you think he has. Does Sophie never ask about him?’

‘No. She did once, a long time ago, but I told her he had to go away, and we didn’t exactly talk about how Hattie was conceived either. Sophie was just excited that she was getting a baby sister and didn’t really care how I’d managed to get pregnant or who the father is. She has never talked about him to me since that one time. I don’t know whether she thinks about him or not,’ Hermione said, sounding a touch wistful.

‘You need to tell everyone the truth, Hermione,’ Draco told her.

‘Are you going to go and see him?’ Hermione asked, changing the subject as she felt suddenly extremely uncomfortable. ‘I know he would love to see you.’

Draco considered the question for a moment, then shrugged. ‘I might do. Perhaps the time has come to bury the hatchet.’

Hermione smiled at him. ‘Yes. It’s time to let the past rest in peace.’

Draco shook his head as he looked at her sadly. ‘I honestly don’t know how you’ve managed to achieve that, Hermione.’

She took hold of his hand and squeezed it for a moment before releasing it. ‘I had no choice, Draco. It was the only way I could continue to live,’ she admitted. Hermione paused for a moment, then said, ‘I never did get a chance to properly say thank you for everything you did for me during those first days. You have no idea how much I appreciated your support. It meant everything to me.’

Draco looked embarrassed, the guilt rising within him once more as he remembered how he had left Hermione behind and never once looked back. How could she be thanking him when his actions had caused her so much pain and torment?

But now Sophie had alighted from the roundabout and was making her way unsteadily towards the couple. She looked a little dizzy. Draco, taking this as his cue to leave, stood up and held out his hand to Hermione.

‘I’ll let you get back to your daughters. It was good to talk to you again, Hermione. I really hope you’ll make the right decision about my father.’

Hermione smiled as she shook Draco’s hand. ‘Go and see him, please. It really would make him happy.’

Draco gave a small nod. He dropped Hermione’s hand as Sophie reached them.

‘Can we have an ice cream, Mummy?’ she asked hopefully as she bent her head over the pram to look at her still-slumbering sister.

‘Come away, don’t wake your sister,’ Hermione said quietly with mock sternness. She rose from the bench. ‘We’re off to get ice cream,’ she told Draco. ‘You’re welcome to come with us if you want.’

Draco shook his head with a smile. ‘Some other time, perhaps,’ he said. ‘I need to get moving or Astoria will wonder where I’ve got to.’

‘Astoria Greengrass?’ Hermione asked in surprise.

Draco grinned widely. ‘I know, you thought I’d saddled myself with Pansy Parkinson, didn’t you?’ He laughed. ‘I know we never got on at school, Hermione, but I really wasn’t that thick. I think we all changed a bit after the war and I realised I just wanted a quiet life where I didn’t have to live down the family name all the time. I met Astoria at Daphne’s twenty-first birthday party and soon discovered she was everything I’d always been looking for. Our marriage is nothing like my parents was — we actually really do love each other.’

‘But you only had the one child?’ Hermione said quizzically.

‘Yes. We’d have liked more, but conceiving was rather more difficult for us than it was for you.’ Draco sounded wistful. ‘Astoria had a very bad pregnancy and we didn’t want to risk another.’   

‘I’m really sorry, Draco,’ Hermione said sincerely.

‘We’re happy with Scorpius,’ Draco said. ‘He’s a good lad and a clever one, too. He might just be the first Malfoy to get into Ravenclaw — although Merlin only knows what his grandparents would say about that.’ He gave a small laugh. ‘Anyway, I’ve got two small sisters now, so my family has grown. We’ll have to get together sometime with Scorpius and Astoria — have a proper family reunion.’

‘That sounds good,’ Hermione said sincerely, ‘although I’m still not sure about telling your dad just yet.’

‘Just think about it,’ Draco encouraged.

Sophie tugged at Hermione’s sleeve. ‘Can we go now, Mummy? I’m starving and I need an ice cream.’

Laughingly, Hermione pushed the pram away from the bench. ‘Come on then, pickle, let’s get that ice cream. It was nice to see you again, Draco. Hopefully, we’ll see you again soon.’

Draco watched as Hermione and her daughter, both pushing the pram, walked across the park towards the café in the late afternoon sunshine and for the first time in the many years since he had left Malfoy Manor he felt a sense of loss at her departure. He considered the small family as he walked towards the park gates.

He had heard all the stories about Hermione and her outrageous behaviour over the years and was glad she had finally found some peace although he wasn’t sure that further entwining herself with his father was the answer, however much the man may have appeared to have changed in the intervening years. At least she seemed happy enough now, which she certainly hadn’t been in the immediate aftermath of her release if the reports of her mental breakdowns and suicide attempts were true.

For a moment Draco wondered again whether he could have made a difference if he had gone to see her rather than keeping away; he still didn’t think he would have helped much. After everything his father had done to her, Hermione had probably hated him for deserting her so abruptly despite what she had said about him helping her. It had probably taken this long for her to be able to forgive him for his part in her trauma, and anyway, they had never really been that close except for those last few weeks before school was due to start.

Draco found himself unexpectedly unhappy as he remembered, then pushed the thoughts away, thinking instead about his own family. He couldn’t have helped Hermione any more than he had so there was no need for him to feel guilty about it. She had survived and had two beautiful daughters who obviously meant the world to her, so she hadn’t missed out on anything.

He understood completely about the joy that children could bring, and while he still couldn’t even begin to understand why Hermione had chosen his father as the sire, he couldn’t begrudge her the right to have a family when she had lost so much else over the years.

Draco considered his own wife, beautiful but so frail. When he told Hermione that Astoria’s pregnancy had been difficult he hadn’t lied exactly, but he hadn’t told the full story either. The truth was that she was already ill, the victim of an old family curse that had, unfortunately, struck her rather than her older sister, Daphne. She was slowly wasting away because of it and the doctors had told them that she was too weak to bear a child; that doing so could kill her.

He had resigned himself to not having a family, happy to let the Malfoy name die out although he knew his father wouldn’t be happy about it, but then Astoria had told him she wanted a baby. He had tried to talk her out of it but his wonderful wife had been adamant. Astoria wanted Draco to have someone in his life to care for and about once she was gone, and she had always wanted to be a mother.

Eventually, Draco had reluctantly agreed and Scorpius had entered their lives even though the cost to Astoria’s health had been high. Draco loved Scorpius with all his heart and, for a moment he felt a slight pang of sympathy that his father didn’t have the opportunity to love his two daughters, however much of a bastard the man might be.

Draco recalled Hermione’s words and tried to imagine himself locked away in Azkaban, unable to see or speak to Scorpius, knowing nothing about his achievements or his progress other than that he existed. The thought was unbearable, and for the first time he had an understanding of why Hermione had kept her secrets. He still wasn’t sure she was right to do so but there was a kind of twisted logic there, and maybe she was right. Perhaps it was better for his father that he didn’t know about Sophie and Hattie while he was locked away.

Hermione was also right that it was time to smooth things over with his father even though Draco knew his mother wouldn’t be very happy about that.


	13. PART THREE - CHAPTER FOUR

Draco shuddered involuntarily and unconsciously pulled his thick cloak tighter around himself as he looked at his surroundings. The place was every bit as dank and grim as he had expected and it gave him the collywobbles but he couldn’t even begin to imagine just how nightmarish it must have been the first time his father had been incarcerated here.

Then, the Dementors had guarded Azkaban prison and everyone had heard the stories about how horrific the place had been. It had driven his Aunt Bellatrix insane — although to be fair, she had apparently always been a few sandwiches short of a picnic even before she was locked away in this hellhole — and he remembered how haunted his father had looked when he finally returned to Malfoy Manor, a fatigued and broken shell of his former self although he had tried hard to keep up appearances for people like Cornelius Fudge.

Kingsley Shacklebolt, the current Minister for Magic, had refused to allow the Dementors back after they deserted the Ministry, lured by the promise of desolation and despair at the side of the Dark wizard, Voldemort. Draco wasn’t sure what had happened to them as they had been banished, driven out by a specialist team from the Ministry of Magic using strong spellwork, and with the wizarding world being rebuilt and seemingly happier than it had ever been there was no place for the creatures that thrived on misery and terror. But that didn’t mean they were gone for good.

The prison was now completely guarded by wizards. However, imprisonment here still wasn’t an easy ride as Draco was discovering. Even the journey over to the desolate island in the middle of the North Sea had been heart-stoppingly terrifying in places; he had no idea how Hermione had found the strength within herself to undertake it so many times when the person she was visiting had been so bloody awful to her.

Draco was certain he wouldn’t be able to cope with being locked away here for only a few days, let alone the seventeen-odd years his father had now served. 

For a moment Draco wondered if his father’s suffering in Azkaban the first time was the reason he had chosen the course of action he had; whether this was the root of the madness that had caused him to treat Hermione so abysmally once she had found herself trapped at Malfoy Manor.

There was no doubt that he had blamed her and her friends for his incarceration, and knowing his father, Draco found it all too easy to imagine him using that as the prod with which to allow himself to do all those wicked things that Draco had never known for certain but always suspected his father of doing to the pretty Muggle-born witch.

Although Hermione hadn’t been explicit when he saw her a few months earlier she had subtly confirmed what he had always believed — that aside from forcing her into a sexual relationship she hadn’t wanted, his father had also physically and mentally abused her until she was completely broken beyond repair. Whatever he had done to her, his father had totally ruined Hermione’s life and left her almost on the edge of madness herself.

It was difficult to accept that the man he had admired, had looked up to and aspired to be like throughout his early teenage years, was capable of such monstrous cruelty without seeming to feel even a shred of guilt at what he was doing. How badly had he hurt Hermione that even more than fifteen years later, and with him locked away in prison, she still couldn’t free herself from him?

Draco had promised to contact Hermione to arrange another get-together so he and his family could better get to know her two daughters, who he had shockingly discovered were his half-sisters. But he hadn’t yet done so because he was still having trouble coming to terms with the fact that she had become pregnant twice by his father, who had no idea that Hermione even had children.

Despite feeling sorry for Hermione for what she had been through at the hands of his father, Draco couldn’t for the life of him understand what kept drawing her back here or why she would keep the child of a man who had abused her so terribly during her time in captivity. Additionally, knowing what his father was like and how he reacted when angered, Draco definitely couldn’t understand why she had kept the children a secret from him, even though they were only Half-bloods. He remembered that Sophie, the oldest girl, was now at Hogwarts, and the question flitted through his mind as to whether she had been sorted into Slytherin or had followed her mother into Gryffindor.  

But even though, at the moment, he was unable to bring himself to strengthen ties with Hermione and her daughters he had finally taken her advice and come to see his father. Hermione had told him she was his father’s only visitor during his entire time in prison, so Draco was extremely apprehensive about what sort of man he was going to find.

Although the Dementors were no longer here to terrorise and suck out all hope, Azkaban was still a depressing and bleak place and would grind you down eventually. From what he remembered of his father just before he evicted Draco from Malfoy Manor, the man was a raging alcoholic madman who had probably deteriorated further over the years, although presumably being stuck in a cell in the worst prison the wizarding world had to offer would have at least dried him out.

Draco was aware that his father was lucky. He could afford to pay for a relatively nice cell and those little comforts like clean clothes and decent washing facilities that less wealthy inmates had to suffer without. But he still wasn’t eager to see how being locked up alone for so many years had affected the man, especially when he felt guilty at never once coming to visit or even writing to him.

He realised that two men were walking towards him: one a large, well-built man with balding dark hair and glasses dressed in robes of midnight blue, the other a small, wiry man dressed in the grey uniform of the prison guards. The cheerful-looking man in blue smiled as they reached him; the guard stared imperiously at him and a suspicious look crossed his face when he recognised him as Lucius Malfoy’s son. The man in blue held out his hand and shook Draco’s hand warmly.

‘Mr Malfoy, it’s a pleasure to meet you. I trust you had a good journey? I know it can be a little difficult, especially when the weather’s bad, which unfortunately for us is more often than not. My name is Theodore Ogden and I’m the head warden of Azkaban. This is Guard Flatworthy.’ Ogden indicated the guard. ‘Welcome to our little island. It’s not too bad once you get used to it, although I know people find it a bit intimidating at first.’

Draco joined the men in walking back towards the door they had emerged from a few minutes earlier.

‘Flatworthy will take you to your father, Mr Malfoy,’ Ogden said as they entered the building.

Draco looked around him as they walked, taking in the thick granite walls which were both barren and uncompromising and held a chill, and once again he shuddered.

‘Your father’s expecting you,’ Ogden continued cheerfully. ‘In fact, I’d say he’s quite excited, wouldn’t you, Flatworthy?’

‘Oh aye,’ the guard said passionlessly.

Draco thought he could understand the lack of enthusiasm being stuck in this depressing place day after day, and wondered how long those who worked here had to spend on the island at a time. Because of the location of the prison for the guards, it must have seemed to them like it was almost imprisonment, too, so it wasn’t really a surprise that previous Ministers had mainly used the Dementors.

They arrived at the door of Ogden’s office and he reached out to open the door.

‘Enjoy your visit with your father, Mr Malfoy. Flatworthy will return you here afterwards and we can have some tea before you leave.’

Draco and Ogden shook hands again, then Flatworthy indicated another dark and gloomy corridor. Draco followed him as Ogden disappeared into his office.

‘Does my father have many visitors?’ Draco asked interestedly as they walked.

Flatworthy shook his head. ‘No. There’s a pretty lass comes to see ’im every few years or so. Gives yer dad a bit of comfort, if yer know what I mean. Apart from that, there’s no one.’

‘Is he okay?’ Draco asked a little anxiously. ‘I mean . . . has he gone . . . ?’ his voice trailed off seemingly unable to say the words.

The guard gave a sharp bark of a laugh. ‘’As he gone mental, d’yer mean? No, yer dad’s far saner now than he were the day he was brought in here. With all the treatment and counselling ’e’s ’ad over the years ye’d never even know ’e’d had a problem and ye’d never guess ’e’s been locked up for so long from the way ’e acts.’ He looked sharply at Draco. ‘Why ’ave you never been to see ’im before now?’

‘When he was first locked away in here my mother was adamant that I not have any contact with him after what he’d done, although to be honest, I didn’t really want to see him anyway as we had been estranged for some time by then. As time went on it got more and more difficult to come after such a long time of not visiting and eventually, it was easier to pretend that he didn’t want to see me anyway,’ Draco admitted.

‘So why ’ave ye come now, then?’ Flatworthy asked bluntly.

Draco shrugged. ‘I bumped into the woman you mentioned a few months ago and she suggested I should come and see him, that it was time to let bygones be bygones. I was completely against the idea at first but the more I thought about it I realised now was the right time — to give us a chance to get to know each other again — especially if he’s going to be getting out in the next few years. Hermione mentioned something about him being eligible for parole once he’s been here for twenty years.'

‘I think ’e could be released earlier than that,’ Flatworthy confided. ‘Lucius has been a model prisoner ever since ’e arrived. ’E never causes no fuss or gives no trouble. ’E’s quite happy as long as ’e has his books, some music, and tha’ lass to keep him company every so often. ’E’s a changed man, yer dad, not the vicious Death Eater ’e came in here as — although ’e’s still just as arrogant when ’e wants to be.’

They had reached a thick wooden door and Flatworthy pulled a large metal key ring containing a number of old-fashioned-looking keys from his pocket. He studied them for a moment before choosing a key, then took his wand from his pocket, too, and pointed it at the door.

‘We use a mixture of methods to keep the prisoners in,’ he told Draco. ‘Wards and lockin’ charms as well as the good old-fashioned method of lockin’ ’em up.’ He held up the massive key then put it in the lock and turned it. ‘I’ll be waiting out ’ere. If yer wanna leave, rap ’ard on the door an’ I’ll let yer out. I need to take yer wand before I can let yer go in there, Mr Malfoy. I’m sure yer understand.’

Draco pulled his wand from his pocket and handed it to Flatworthy.

‘How long can I spend with my father?’ he asked.

Flatworthy shrugged. ‘Depends on ’ow things go once yer get talkin’. Yer can probably last it out for an hour or so. I’ll come and get yer if yer not out by then.’

Draco nodded his understanding. He was certain that he wouldn’t be staying anywhere near an hour. He didn’t have that much to say to his father. He gazed nervously at the door.

‘Get yerself in there,’ Flatworthy said kindly. ‘’E’s not gonna bite — at least I don’t think so.’ He winked. ‘E’s yer dad. ‘E’ll be reet pleased to see yer.’

‘You don’t know my father,’ Draco muttered darkly.

Flatworthy clapped him on the back and chuckled. ‘As I said, ’e’s changed. Go on. It’ll be fine.’

Draco reached out and turned the handle, pushing the heavy door open. He walked into the space beyond and Flatworthy closed the door behind him. He was surprised to find that the room was far larger than he had expected and was, for a prison cell, extremely pleasantly furnished; yet again his father’s money had obviously achieved this.

His father, who was as well-groomed and elegantly dressed as Draco always remembered him, was sitting in a large leather armchair, a book in his hand. As Draco moved further into the room Lucius closed the book and placed it on a small table at his side, watching his son keenly.

‘Hullo, Father,’ Draco said quietly.

He studied the older man as he spoke, surprised to see how relaxed he appeared to be. There was no sign of the madness or depression that had hung on him like a shroud after his last stint in Azkaban. If anything he looked healthy and well-rested, his wizard genes stopping the years from showing upon his face. Draco removed his cloak to indicate that he intended to stay for more than a few minutes. 

‘I take it you must have spoken to Hermione,’ Lucius replied, his voice holding the same imperious tone Draco remembered so well. ‘I’m glad you’ve finally come, Draco. Sit down, why don’t you?’

He indicated a matching chair opposite him. Draco sat down, folded his cloak over his lap, and looked back at his father.

‘You’re looking well. Much better than I expected,’ he admitted.

Lucius shrugged and steepled his fingers, his elbows resting just above the arms of the chair. ‘I have no complaints, apart from not being able to go free, but that’s an old gripe. But you’d know how I was if you’d bothered to come and see me before now.’

‘Mother didn’t want me to,’ Draco told him bluntly.

Lucius looked amused. ‘You’re a grown man, Draco. You should make your own decisions, not listen to your mother all the time. She isn’t always right, you know.’

‘But you deserved to be locked away,’ Draco retorted, unable to stop himself. He shook his head, sounding disgusted. ‘After the things you did . . . the things you did to Hermione . . . .’

Lucius sighed deeply. ‘Ah, you’re right, of course. I did do some terrible things, especially to the lovely Miss Granger, and no doubt I _deserved_ punishment — although I’m not sure it warranted twenty-five years of imprisonment in this bloody place.’

‘Personally, I think you were pretty lucky it was only twenty-five years, especially now the Dementors have gone,’ Draco told him.

Lucius stared at him for a moment. ‘I don’t believe I have ever given you any reason to complain about my treatment of you, Draco. I gave you everything you could ever want.’

‘Including a bad attitude and a completely irrational dislike of Muggle-borns,’ Draco shot back.

‘You’re still unhappy that I fucked her, aren’t you?’ Lucius crowed. He grinned maliciously. ‘You had a secret crush on Hermione while you were at school and could never get over the fact that I fucked her and you never did.

‘I remember all those nights you spent comforting her, just waiting for the moment when she would give herself to you, but she never did, did she? You went back to school like the good little son I taught you to be and lovely Hermione was still mine.’

‘Actually, I’ve never had any interest in Hermione that way; you made sure of that with all your lessons on the evils of Muggle-borns,’ Draco answered stiffly. ‘By the time you threw me out, I honestly thought of Hermione as my sister and was interested only in protecting her from the things you made her do.

‘But now you mention it, I do think it’s disgusting the way you took advantage of her. After everything you lectured me about you shouldn’t have wanted to touch her either, but it didn’t stop you. Even the fact that you were a married man old enough to be her father and she was a virgin who had no interest in you didn’t make a difference. You still forced her to do it. But then it wasn’t just sex, was it? I remember the bruises and Hermione didn’t do that to herself. I don’t think I even know or can guess at half of what you did to her once Mother and I left Malfoy Manor.’

‘You’re not doing anything to convince me that you’re _not_ jealous of me with this ludicrous self-righteousness you seem to have attained,’ Lucius said with relish.

‘I think you’re a disgusting pervert,’ Draco admitted.

‘Then why did you bother to come to see me?’ Lucius enquired insouciantly.

Draco considered for a moment, then said quietly, ‘Hermione told me I should give you a chance. She said you’ve changed. She was actually quite persuasive.’

‘Well, she would definitely know,’ Lucius said. He smiled with pleasure as if thinking of Hermione, then almost anxiously he asked, ‘How did she seem to you when you saw her?’

Draco watched him for a moment then shrugged. ‘To be honest, I think she’s completely fucked up. You ruined her life, Father, and she’s never been able to get over it and move on. Even now she can’t get away from you, however hard she tries. You’ve damaged her so badly I don’t think she’ll ever heal properly.’

Lucius frowned as he listened to his son. ‘Is that so? That’s a real shame. I know she was rather traumatised by what happened to her at Malfoy Manor and it took her some time to get over it, but I honestly hoped that with everything I’ve done to help her, that by now she had managed to find some peace and live a relatively normal life.’

‘Everything you’ve done to help her?’ Draco repeated with dismay. ‘You repeatedly raped and beat her and did Merlin only knows what else to her — you almost killed her. You terrified her so much that she was scared to not do as you ordered in case you hurt her more, and it tied her to you for years afterwards.

‘She was so depressed at what you did that she became an alcoholic and tried to commit suicide several times. She was completely incapable of having a normal relationship, thanks to you. And then, just when she was finally beginning to recover and be able to make a go of her life at last you wrote to her and it set everything off again. I’ve just never understood why, when you hated her so much, you would do those things to her in the first place — and why keep her tethered to you, still, when you could be free of her?’

‘You honestly believe I hate Hermione?’ Lucius asked, looking thoughtful. ‘The truth is actually completely the opposite, Draco. I absolutely adore her and have done for many years . . . ever since her extended stay with us at Malfoy Manor.’ He ignored the snort of disbelief that issued from Draco at this proclamation and continued, ‘In fact, I’m in love with her. I fully intend to marry her once I finally get out of this dreadful place.’

‘Marry her! Do you honestly have any concept of how you’ve tortured that poor woman, Father? Marrying her would be the worst thing you could ever possibly do to her,’ Draco retorted.

He thought for a moment of Hermione and her daughters and remembered how reluctant she had been when he told her she should tell his father about the existence of the girls. But then he had never seriously believed his father thought of her romantically, and from what he had seen of Hermione she was still fragile; definitely not up to more abuse from his father even if he was now couching it as love.

Lucius frowned deeply as he considered Draco’s words. When he spoke he sounded disappointed. ‘Do you really think so? I thought Hermione had feelings for me in return and would welcome such an overture, but perhaps I was wrong and it was just wishful thinking on my part. I know she was still broken the first time she came to see me and I’ll admit I did feel incredibly guilty for what I’d done to that beautiful, intelligent woman as it was quite clearly my fault she was such a mess.

‘But as the years passed she seemed to be improving — and she always seems pleased to see me when she visits — so I harboured a hope that something more could blossom between us once I was no longer locked in here but free to court her properly.

‘I really hoped the children would help her to heal and that she would finally get the life I all but stole from her, but from what you say it sounds as if I may have made things worse, which was most definitely not my intention, I can assure you, Draco.’

Draco stared at him in shock. He was trying to process what his father had just said.

Eventually, he managed, ‘You knew that Hermione has children. But she never told you—’

Lucius sighed. ‘No, she’s never mentioned anything about it despite me being fairly certain she had got pregnant at least once. Obviously, I kept hoping she would talk to me, but I didn’t want to push her. I was sure that eventually she would open up and tell me of her own accord.

‘Unfortunately, I assume this means she still doesn’t feel comfortable enough with me to tell me. It’s a shame because I really hoped that having children would give her something she was so clearly missing from her life, especially as I couldn’t be there to provide her with the love and support I wanted to give.’

‘How did you know Hermione has children?’ Draco asked suspiciously, wondering how his father could have discovered her secret when he supposedly had no other visitors.

Lucius shrugged. ‘To be honest, I didn’t for sure, although I thought it was fairly likely under the circumstances. There are ways you can tell, and the way she acted pointed towards it.’ He sighed again. ‘That first time Hermione came to see me after I had been in here for five years, she was a real mess. She had been trying to get on with her life but it just wasn’t working. She was so close to cracking up again, so depressed, that I knew I had to do something to help her before she did something terrible.’

‘So instead, you had sex with her again and made her feel a million times worse about herself,’ Draco said spitefully.

‘You make it sound like I forced her to do something she didn’t want to do,’ Lucius answered unhappily. ‘I didn’t rape her, you know. As uncomfortable as it might be for you to hear this, Draco, she wanted what we did just as much as I did. That’s why she came to see me.’

‘Are you so sure about that? Why did you even want to see her in the first place?’ Draco asked, not bothering to keep the coldness out of his voice now.

Lucius considered the question for a few seconds before speaking, clearly wanting to get right what he had to say.

‘It wasn’t long after I was brought to this place that I began to realise what an idiotic and thoroughly evil fool I had been. It was a genuine revelation, I can tell you, and I finally understood the way the lure of power had corrupted me until I believed that nothing I did, however abhorrent, was wrong. I had hurt many people in such a variety of different ways over the years, but Hermione was the worst by far. Without even doing anything she brought out in me something so ugly and so brutal that I did things to her that no living creature should ever have to suffer at the hands of another.

‘I should explain that by the time Hermione came to Malfoy Manor I was out of my mind — far more than you or your mother ever realised. I was still crazy after my first stint in here, but added to that I was drunk on power and Voldemort’s promises and was certain I was invincible and could do anything with impunity, especially where a Muggle-born was concerned. I know I taught you well, Draco, but I’m sure even you can see how beautiful Hermione is. Combined with her talents as a witch, which I honestly believed at the time she shouldn’t have but also desperately wanted to harness to make our family stronger, it made me both desire and hate her in equal measure.   

‘She was so young and sweet, so innocent, and within only a couple of weeks of her arrival, I realised I desired Hermione with a carnal passion that surprised me. Being who I was back then, I felt no compunction to hold back. Why would I? Voldemort and the Death Eaters were riding high and were going to be ruling the wizarding world within a few short months; had already taken over the Ministry of Magic and had the new Minister himself in our thrall, so why wouldn’t I do whatever I wanted with the beautiful young Muggle-born girl who now found herself within my grasp when she would probably be dead soon anyway, despite my assurances to Cornelius that she would become a member of our family?’

Lucius stopped abruptly, then stood up and made his way over to a cabinet on the right-hand side of the room. Without saying anything further he opened the door and pulled out a bottle and two glasses. Draco watched him as he poured the liquid from the bottle, filling one glass considerably more than the other. Leaving the bottle on the side he walked back to the chairs and gave the emptier glass to Draco before sitting back down.

Draco sniffed at the drink suspiciously. It smelled like malt whisky although he didn’t know enough about them to know which one, which would probably disappoint his father if he knew. He wasn’t sure how he had managed to get hold of alcohol in prison, especially when he was a recovering alcoholic, and it was a bit early in the day for Draco to start drinking, particularly when he had to get back to the mainland with that awful weather outside. But he didn’t want to offend his father by refusing, and if the man was in a confessional mood, as he certainly appeared to be, Draco thought he would probably need the drink, especially if his father was going to go into detail about his ill-treatment of Hermione.

Lucius took a large swig of his drink as he sat down, then waved his glass at Draco.

‘Don’t worry, it’s not alcohol. It’s just a very expensive soft drink that tastes and looks like a decent malt whisky. I’ve got absolutely no idea how they manage it, but it is extremely realistic. My guard, Ted, bought me a bottle as a Christmas present several years ago and I’ve been buying it ever since. That’s been the one good thing about being stuck in here — it’s helped me to conquer the demon booze. To be honest, I don’t even miss it these days, especially when I can still enjoy this.’

He raised his glass again as he watched Draco take a sip of the drink, seeming surprised at the taste.

‘That’s astonishing,’ Draco said. ‘It really does taste like whisky.’

‘It does, but I can assure you that it’s completely alcohol-free,’ Lucius said. He took another mouthful of the drink and continued, ‘So, we were talking about Hermione. I don’t think I need talk too extensively about what I did to her as I think you already have a good enough idea. It’s enough to say that I forced her to do things she didn’t want to do — things that made me even more power-crazed, which in turn intensified my ill-treatment of her.’

Lucius stared into his glass for a moment as if looking for something. ‘She was perfect. So soft and beautiful, and she made me feel so good — she made my craving for her grow ever stronger and I wanted to possess her completely . . . to own her.’ He sighed. ‘But unfortunately, she didn’t want me and fought me every step of the way, so the experience wasn’t a good one for her. And then afterwards, every time, the guilt started. Just when I was coming down from the bliss that she induced in me I would be overtaken by horror at what I had done.'

He shook his head as if unhappy with himself. ‘You have to understand, Draco, that this wasn’t really horror at the acts I had committed with Hermione. No! Far more insidiously, it was the fact that she was Muggle-born and that I had enjoyed her sexually that made me feel guilty. I think you saw for yourself a couple of times just before I sent you away something of the outcome of that guilt, but that was right at the beginning before things really got out of control and before drink overwhelmed me, when I was still trying to give the impression that she was a member of our family, so it wasn’t anywhere near on a par with the things I did to her later.

‘I took my guilt out on Hermione every time; blamed her for seducing me, when in truth she did nothing of the sort. She was just trapped by my obsession for her, unable to get away because I had made her a prisoner at Malfoy Manor. I punished her so severely, beating her until she was black and blue, sometimes so badly that I had to mend the bones I’d broken. Several times I had to repair a lung I had punctured when I lost control and broke all her ribs.

‘I used the Cruciatus Curse on her so often that I almost drove her mad on more occasions than I care to remember, using the excuse that I was questioning her on her knowledge of Potter and the Order of the Phoenix when in truth I just enjoyed hurting her. But you were long gone by that time and your mother had moved out of the house, too, burying her head in the sand as she always does when something bad happens.’

Draco was about to retaliate in defence of his mother when he remembered how she had reacted on the night he had been thrown out of Malfoy Manor. She had known all about his father’s abuse of Hermione right from the beginning and chose to allow him to continue without interference in exchange for him leaving her alone. Even though she had tried to look after Hermione once Draco left it really was much too little, far too late.

‘There wasn’t much she could do, was there?’ he asked quietly.

Lucius snorted. ‘At least you had the guts to stand up to me, even if only briefly.’ He gazed fondly at his son, his voice much softer as he admitted, ‘I know I made some unforgiveably disparaging remarks about you during that confrontation, Draco but I am actually extremely proud of what you tried to do . . . and more and more I wish you had succeeded that night.’

Draco stared at him in surprise. ‘So do I.’

Lucius nodded understandingly. ‘I’ve no doubt you felt guilt over leaving Hermione behind and I’m sorry to have caused that.’

‘I still do,’ Draco told him honestly. ‘I didn’t see her for over fifteen years because I thought she would hate me for what I caused to happen.’

‘Hermione never hated _you_. Not in all the time she was with me nor in all the years since,’ Lucius informed him, sounding a little bitter. ‘I think in some ways that made me worse, particularly when you were still at the Manor. Knowing that she was happy for you to hold her, that she would let you wrap her in your arms to sleep. I wanted that so much, but that level of trust and intimacy completely eluded me, and I was too obsessed, too deluded by my madness — and the alcohol — to understand that my extreme behaviour pushed her into your arms.’ 

Lucius ruminated for a few minutes. Draco wasn't sure what to say. Eventually, the older man said, ‘You were right, by the way. Despite what I said earlier, with the amount of damage I caused to Hermione alone I should have been locked away forever and will be eternally grateful that twenty-five years was considered sufficient punishment for all my crimes.’

‘You’re still obsessed with Hermione, though,’ Draco suggested.

Lucius frowned. ‘I wouldn’t call it an obsession, not any longer. I love Hermione deeply, Draco — far more deeply than I can ever explain to you — but I don’t want to own her in the way I once did. I have no desire to dominate or terrorise her. All I want is to make her happy, to try to help her navigate the minefield I created with my bad treatment of her. I so bitterly regret what I did, but unfortunately, regret has no power to change the past. All I can do is try to help her future, and despite what you say I still believe I’ve helped her. She’s still alive, which is a major achievement knowing how she was in the early days.’

‘Hermione told me that Sophie saved her life,’ Draco admitted.

For a moment he wondered whether he should be talking to his father of Hermione’s children, knowing her desire to keep them a secret from him, but he decided there was no point keeping quiet. His father all but knew they existed, and at the end of the day, they were his daughters, too.

‘Sophie. Is that my daughter’s name?’ Lucius asked with a smile, his voice much gentler than Draco would have expected. He obviously wasn’t unhappy at having a Half-blood child. Hermione had been right.

Draco nodded. ‘She was born after Hermione’s first visit to you. As I understand it, the contraception charm she used failed.’

Lucius chuckled deeply. ‘I’m not surprised, to be honest. In fact, I’m amazed she was actually able to cast a charm at all. Hermione was in a right old state at that time — she could certainly match me on the alcoholism front, and she had been abusing herself terribly in all sorts of ways, quite apart from the suicide attempts.

‘We talked for a long time . . . well, I talked, mainly. I apologised to her in every way I could think of and then I healed her, the way she so desperately needed healing. At the time I didn’t think to question the method of contraception, and although it did occur to me later to wonder whether there had actually been any, I never heard anything further from Hermione one way or another. To be honest, by the time I wrote to her again, after ten years in here, I had pretty much forgotten all about it.

‘When she arrived to see me that time she was a completely different person. It was such a pleasure to see Hermione looking so happy and hear how well she was doing — it gave me such a boost to see how she had turned her life around. The things she didn’t say spoke almost as loudly as those she did, and I soon became convinced that she wasn’t alone any longer, that there was a child who had given her that unexpected joie de vivre.

‘Of course, I didn’t know for certain that it was mine — she could have easily been in a relationship with someone else as it had been five years since I had last seen her — but I didn’t get the impression that there was a significant other in the picture . . . and I don’t believe a lover or husband would have allowed Hermione to come and visit me, knowing what I had done to her. As far as I could tell she was still the same solitary creature I had turned her into, but something had definitely given her a boost.

‘After Hermione left I was tempted to try to find out if I was right, but although Ted might have helped me had I asked him to, I was aware that this might be seen by the Healers as a sign of the obsession I had once held for her and I had no desire to be seen as backsliding. Anyway, whatever had happened, there was nothing I could do about it locked away in here, and if Hermione didn’t want to talk to me I could hardly force her to do so. All I could do was wait and hope that one day she would choose to share that part of her life with me.’

‘But I still don’t understand how you figured it out if she didn’t say anything,’ Draco said, sounding confused.

Lucius shrugged. ‘Physically, there were changes — her breast size had increased and there were stretch marks and so forth. I know it’s possible that they weren’t caused by pregnancy but it wasn’t likely, particularly as she hadn’t aged much otherwise. Also, the things she talked about — the amount of time she was spending with other mothers; loads of conversations about children that seemed to be missing someone from the narrative.

‘She wasn’t working any longer, either, and I couldn’t imagine her successfully navigating her life without some sort of anchor to ground her. The old Hermione would have been unconscious in a bar somewhere or off doing Merlin only knows what with some scumbag or other she had picked up. But all that sleazy stuff was long gone and fresh-faced, clean and happy Hermione had taken her place.’

‘She has two daughters,’ Draco told him, deciding to be frank. ‘Sophie started at Hogwarts last month, and from what I understand Hermione was spiralling back into depression at the thought of being alone again after all those years.’ He paused for a moment, then added apologetically, ‘I don’t really understand why she didn’t tell you about Sophie, but having not done so it made it impossible for her to approach you about another baby, which she had decided she needed — to anchor her, as you said.’

‘Her last visit,’ Lucius said sagely, nodding as if Draco’s words explained something. ‘Hermione looked well enough but there was a restlessness about her and I knew she wasn’t at her peak. She did briefly mention that she was battling with depression again but it never occurred to me it was because the child was old enough to go to school. The desire to conceive would explain her eagerness for intimacy, too.’ He looked and sounded a little downcast now. ‘I had hoped that Hermione had come to realise how much I love her, how I want to dedicate the rest of my life to caring for her and that she, in turn, had come to care for me a little, too. But if she was just after a sperm donation I guess nothing’s changed and you were right: I’m deluding myself into believing that I could ever bring her joy.’

Draco frowned. ‘I’m not sure that’s true,’ he said quickly. ‘You’ve made me consider things in a different way. Although there’s no doubt that you royally fucked up Hermione’s life, I think you’ve also made it better. Hermione is finally in a place where she can forgive you for what happened — I know because she told me she has. I just couldn’t understand how she could have sex with you again after what you did to her or why she would even consider having a child fathered by you. But talking to you now has made me understand in a way I would never have been able to if I hadn’t come here today.

‘I honestly came here believing that despite what Hermione told me you would be the same as you used to be . . . or worse, if the madness had claimed you again. But I can tell you’ve changed — and for the better — I can see it in your manner and in the things you say. And it’s clear how much you care for Hermione, how much you want to help her. Maybe you can. Maybe you _are_ what she needs to be able to go forward — you are Sophie and Hattie’s father, after all.’

‘Thank you for saying that, Draco. I appreciate it,’ Lucius said humbly. He pointed to Draco’s empty glass. ‘Would you like another drink?’

Draco waved his hand in dismissal. ‘No, thanks. I know it’s non-alcoholic but it’s still a bit early for whisky.’

Lucius stood up and went to retrieve the bottle to pour himself another drink.

‘Are you in close contact with Hermione now? I know you said you hadn’t seen her for fifteen years or something, but obviously you’ve talked relatively recently.’

‘I kept away from her on purpose,’ Draco said as Lucius sat down again. ‘I knew about her problems as I work at the Ministry of Magic and Hermione’s life is well known there. As I said, I thought she would probably hate me for what happened that night, and I presumed she was trying to forget that the Malfoys even existed. I had no idea she was still seeing you and bearing your children.

‘I bumped into her and the girls completely by accident back in the summer. We talked for a short while and that was when she informed me that she hadn’t told you about Sophie and Hattie. I tried to convince her that she should let you know but she wasn’t very keen to do so — I’m not sure why. I think she will come round on that eventually, you just have to give her time.

‘I did tell her we should get together again so I could get to know the girls better as they’re my sisters but to be honest, I felt a bit uncomfortable about it considering what happened before, and as I said, I couldn’t understand why she was willing to forgive you. I did take her advice to come here, though. She told me it was time to bury the hatchet, and she was right.’

‘So will you go and see Hermione after this?’ Lucius asked. There was a hopefulness in his tone and Draco couldn’t help but feel sorry for him.

‘Yes. I would like Hermione to get to know my family better although my wife, Astoria, hasn’t been very well recently.’

Lucius’ face split into a huge and genuine smile. ‘You’re married? How wonderful! And what about children, do you have children?’

‘A son, Scorpius,’ Draco said proudly. ‘He’s nine, and he is the most amazing child.’

‘We all think our children are amazing,’ Lucius said with a chuckle. ‘You were _my_ amazing child, Draco — and you really haven’t disappointed me at all.’

Draco stared at his father, feeling tears well in his eyes at the compliment, and realised that his father was also watery-eyed.

‘I worry about Scorpius,’ he admitted. ‘He’s had to cope with so much with his mother being ill.’

‘What’s the matter with your wife, if you don’t mind me asking?’ Lucius enquired gently.

‘Astoria was a Greengrass. Apparently, back in the annals of history, someone in their family got cursed — a blood curse that somehow skipped Daphne, her older sister, and hit Astoria instead. The Healers told us it was too dangerous for Astoria to have a baby so I resigned myself to remaining childless, as Astoria’s health meant everything to me. But she wanted a child so desperately, and she didn’t want me to be alone when she—’

Draco’s voice faltered, unable to say the words. Lucius left his seat and dropped to kneel in front of his son, pulling him into his arms and holding him for the first time since Draco’s childhood.

‘She’s going to die,’ Draco said, sounding anguished, ‘and I can’t do anything to stop it nor can I do anything to help Scorpius come to terms with it.’

‘You’ll find a way when the time is right,’ Lucius assured him. ‘And he knows you’re there for him, that’s the important thing. You never had that assurance from me, Draco, and I’m sorry for that.’

‘You were fine until you came back from here the first time,’ Draco whispered. ‘That’s where it all went wrong.’

They were silent then, for a few minutes, as Draco cried, letting out all the pain and grief he had been storing inside him for so long; it was the first time he had been able to release it. Lucius held him the whole time, comforting in a way Draco would never have expected, and when his father finally released him to return to his seat he felt a strange sense of loss as well a sense of relief.

There was a knock on the door. Both men looked round as it opened and the guard, Ted Flatworthy, entered.

‘Time’s up, I’m afraid,’ he said quietly.

Draco nodded in acknowledgement, then stood up. He looked at Lucius, who had also risen.

‘It was good to see you, Father,’ he admitted as he wrapped his cloak around himself, preparing to leave.

‘You too, Draco. Don’t stay away so long next time,’ Lucius said. He was smiling.

He moved to take Draco in his arms again, hugging him tightly.

‘Thank you,’ Draco whispered, grateful for the non-judgemental support his father had given him.

‘Anytime,’ Lucius told him sincerely. He smiled as he released Draco. ‘Put in a good word for me with Hermione when you see her, will you?’

Draco nodded. ‘I definitely will. And I’ll come and see you again soon.’

‘That would be great.’ Lucius looked exceptionally pleased with this outcome.

‘I’ll see yer later, Lucius,’ Ted said as he followed Draco out of the door.


	14. PART THREE - CHAPTER FIVE

‘What’s the matter, darling?’ Hermione asked her daughter.

She had noticed that Sophie had been somewhat introverted ever since she returned home from Hogwarts for the holidays and couldn’t help but wonder what was wrong. Sophie shrugged but didn’t say anything although she still looked downcast as she flicked through a magazine. Hermione sat down next to her on the sofa and wrapped her arm around the girl, pulling her close for a hug.

‘Come on, Soph, you can talk to me, you know you can,’ Hermione pushed gently.

Sophie gave a large sigh and looking really miserable, said, ‘Is it true that Lucius Malfoy is my father?’

Hermione paused for a moment, her heart beating faster as she wondered how Sophie had found out. Realising that someone must have mentioned it to her at school, she took a deep breath before admitting as mildly as she could, ‘Yes, Lucius is your father. He’s Hattie’s father, too.’

‘Why didn’t you ever tell me?’ Sophie asked. She looked worried.

Not sure what to say, Hermione prevaricated. ‘To be honest, darling, it was a very difficult situation with Lucius locked away in prison and not likely to be released, so it seemed easier to not say anything about him when he wasn’t going to be part of our lives. How did you find out?’

‘Someone at school told me. They said that my father was a criminal and I was an unwanted child; that I was only born because he attacked and raped you,’ Sophie said, sounding upset.

‘Who told you that, Sophie? Because it’s definitely not true.’ Hermione was shocked at her daughter’s words. ‘Tell me who told you that.’

Sophie shook her head, her eyes full of tears, and muttered, ‘It doesn’t matter who said it; apparently everyone knew about it . . . except me.’

Hermione’s heart sank and she realised that she should have discussed Lucius with her daughter far sooner. Not telling her the truth hadn’t protected her as she had hoped it would, but had caused Sophie unneeded distress and would eventually do the same for Hattie.

She should have known there would be people at Hogwarts who knew about what had happened between her and Lucius and wouldn’t have considered that they needed to keep quiet about it, but it sounded like whoever had talked to Sophie was being pretty malicious by hinting that she had been the unwanted product of a rape.

Hermione could see Sophie looking at her avidly, desperately wanting her to explain. She took a deep breath.

‘Lucius did attack me, Sophie, but that was several years before you were born . . . back during the war,’ Hermione admitted. Feeling she needed to explain properly, she continued, ‘It was a horrible time when many people did lots of nasty things without even really thinking about what they were doing or even why they were doing it. When the Death Eaters killed my parents Lucius took me in and gave me a home with his family at Malfoy Manor.

‘It was a kind thing to do, but unfortunately, he became obsessed with me and what should have been a safe place after a harrowing ordeal turned into something much nastier. Lucius began to visit my bedroom and there was nothing I could do to stop him. I was a prisoner in his home and his wife would do nothing to help because it meant he left her alone — she had long since stopped having an interest in having an intimate relationship with him, which was probably part of the problem. I tried to return to school to get away from him, but Lucius wouldn’t let me leave and that’s when I knew my fate was sealed. I honestly believed that eventually he would kill me.

‘Because of the type of relationship we had, as time went on I became completely dependent on Lucius despite the things he did to me. Then Narcissa moved out of Malfoy Manor because she couldn’t ignore or put up with what was going on any longer and it was just the two of us, stuck in a painful and damaging relationship that I couldn’t leave and Lucius refused to give up on.

‘When I was finally rescued, after the war was over, I was seriously messed up. There was a long trial and eventually Lucius was taken away and sentenced to twenty-five years in Azkaban prison for his crimes, which were considerably more extensive than the ones he had committed against me. To begin with, I was glad he was locked away because I knew it meant he couldn’t touch me any longer and I was finally free, but as the years went on I continued to deteriorate.

‘I was never able to recover completely from what Lucius had done to me; worse still, my dependency on him was still as strong as it had ever been although I obviously didn’t want to admit that at the time. My life was going nowhere fast and I was in an extremely bad place when, after five years in Azkaban, Lucius wrote to me and asked if I would go to visit him in prison as he wanted to apologise in person for what he had done to me. Hoping this would give me the closure I so desperately needed, I went to see him.

‘As soon as I saw him I could feel the change in him and knew that he had honestly repented, even though it was clear his desire for me was still as strong as it had ever been. Not in the damaging way it was before though — there was a new tenderness there and a desire to protect rather than harm. But I was still so messed up at that time that I had trouble accepting his apology. I’m not even sure what happened, exactly, but something inside me snapped, and it twisted everything. Before I knew it we were making love. I hadn’t intended it to happen, it was just one of those spur of the moment things although it was something I badly needed to happen. Afterwards, I discovered I was pregnant with you.’

‘So I _was_ unwanted,’ Sophie said, sounding disheartened.

‘Not at all, darling,’ Hermione assured her daughter warmly. ‘Although I hadn’t visited with the intention of having sex with Lucius, when I discovered I was pregnant it was like a tiny miracle that gave my life the spark it had been missing. At that time my life was in such a terrible mess and I was on the verge of doing something desperate because I was so unhappy, and I really didn’t want to be alive any longer. But thanks to Lucius I now had something to live for . . . _someone_ to live for . . . and although everyone was worried that I wouldn’t be able to cope with having and looking after a baby I was determined that this would be worthwhile and I would succeed.

‘You were the most perfect thing to come into my life, Sophie, and you came just at the right moment. I honestly couldn’t _ever_ be any happier than I was when I saw you for the first time and held you in my arms. You gave my life meaning, gave me something to work for, and for the first time since my parents died I actually felt truly happy. It was such a pleasure to cuddle your darling little body and I knew Lucius and I had created something wonderful between us.’

Sophie looked slightly mollified by her mother’s emotional reaction but it wasn’t quite enough.

‘But you never said anything about him. You never told me who he was . . . never warned me what he had done.’

Hermione sighed. ‘I know, and I’m really sorry for that. To be honest, I was still having trouble coming to terms with what Lucius did in the past compared to the man he now was. I felt like you were my reward for everything I had suffered and I didn’t want to share you with anyone else, especially not the man I still held such strong negative feelings for.

‘I didn’t even tell him I was pregnant. I didn’t want him to know, and I also didn’t think there was any point when he was going to be locked away in Azkaban for another twenty years. Let’s face it, there was no way I was ever going to take you to see him in that awful place and you’ll be an adult by the time he gets out of prison — he’s in there for another eight years still — so he’ll have missed your entire childhood. I was trying to protect you, too, knowing the reason he had been sent to prison.’

‘I thought he left because he didn’t like me,’ Sophie said unhappily. ‘That’s why I never talked about him after that day with the picture — I knew it made you sad to think about him, but I didn’t understand why. I thought it was my fault — that I had driven him away and made you unhappy — even though you told me it wasn’t.’

Hermione grabbed Sophie and pulled her into her arms again, rocking her gently as the girl started to cry. When she calmed a little Hermione released her and pulled up her chin to look tenderly at her.

‘I am really sorry I never talked to you properly about your father, Sophie. I know I should have done, but to be honest I was a bit of a coward. You were so young when you drew that picture and at the time I wasn’t sufficiently sanguine about what had happened to be able to explain it to you without being bitter, and you were far too young then to hear the truth. You would never have understood, even if I could have found the words to explain it.

‘I should have told you when I was pregnant with Hattie — you would have understood better by that time — but I was feeling a little guilty at what I’d done, especially as Lucius still didn’t know and wasn’t aware I was pregnant a second time. When you didn’t ask anything about who Hattie’s father was it was easier — more cowardly — for me to sidestep the issue once again.

‘I wasn’t sure how to talk to you about a father you couldn’t get to know. With so long still to go before he was going to be released it seemed better to just let it lie. It didn’t even occur to me that someone would take what happened all those years ago and use it to torment you. I’m so sorry, darling.’

‘So my father has no idea that Hattie and I even exist?’ Sophie asked, unable to hide the disappointment in her tone.

Hermione considered the question for a few seconds. ‘I’m not sure, to be honest. I mean, I’ve never told him officially, but Draco might have done if he went to see him.’

She frowned as she wondered whether Draco had finally decided to visit his father. He had never contacted her again after their meeting in the park, despite his assurance that he would do so. Hermione assumed he had found the encounter too uncomfortable to deal with, and she knew the situation with Lucius was even more difficult. Maybe Draco wasn’t yet ready to forgive and forget the past.

‘Sophie, do you remember that man we met in the park back in July — the tall blond one?’

Sophie thought back for a moment, then nodded. ‘The handsome man. He was a friend of yours.’

‘He was, but actually, he was more than that. Draco — that’s his name — is Lucius’ son and your half-brother. He was also my brother when I lived with his family. He looked after me and tried to get Lucius to stop his bad treatment of me. Eventually, Lucius banished him from the house.’

Hermione looked maudlin for a moment but then recovered. ‘That day at the park was the first time I had seen him since he left Malfoy Manor and it was quite a shock for both of us. The meeting made me think about things I had tried to forget or put out of my mind, including telling Lucius about you girls, and I think it made Draco consider things he had been ignoring, too. He had never visited his father in all the time he’s been in prison and I told him he should. It’s possible he mentioned something to him about you and Hattie if he went to see him.’

‘He’s my brother?’ Sophie looked surprised. ‘All those years I wanted a brother or sister and I already had one, I just didn’t know about him.’

‘I was hoping he would contact us again, would want to get to know you better, but I guess it’s taking him a little while to get his head around it all, too. I don’t really know much about him apart from the fact that he’s married and got a son who’s about the same age as Albus.’ Hermione paused, then added, ‘Maybe we should make the first move and contact them — see if he’s willing to give us a shot as family? What do you think?’

Sophie shrugged, trying not to show too much excitement or hope. ‘We could do. Perhaps we can send them a card. It is Christmas, after all. Then they’ll either talk to us or they won’t.’

Hermione smiled. ‘That’s a great idea, actually, Soph. We need to go shopping tomorrow anyway, so we’ll get Draco and his family a card then.’

‘Can we get one for my father, too?’ Sophie asked quietly.

Hermione felt her heart sink into her stomach at the question. It was innocent enough, and obvious considering Sophie’s overwhelming need to have a father and one to be proud of rather than loathe and fear, but Hermione wasn’t sure how to answer. She didn’t believe like Draco did, that Lucius would be annoyed with her for keeping silent about their daughters; he had changed too much for that to be an issue between them. But there was still such a long time until his release — it might ruin the poor man’s Christmas if a card turned up without any explanation. But then, how could she turn down her daughter’s request?

‘Okay, we’ll get Lucius a card, too. Anyone else?’ She smiled indulgently.

‘All the usual people and we need to get the presents, too,’ Sophie said, her heart lifting considerably at her mother’s agreement to send her father a card and now firmly thinking about the upcoming Christmas celebrations. ‘We are going to the Burrow on Christmas Day, aren’t we?’

Hermione grinned. ‘We certainly are. Grandma Molly would never forgive us if we didn’t join the rest of the family. Anyway, there’s no way I’m attempting to cook that big dinner, especially not in our kitchen. Can you imagine how awful it would taste if I made it?’

Sophie grimaced and admitted, ‘I don’t think I want a Christmas dinner cooked by you, Mum.’

‘Sensible girl. Cooking has never really been my forte, especially something with so many elements that could go wrong. Knowing my luck I’d give us all food poisoning and we’d be in bed ill for the rest of the year. At least if we go to the Burrow we only have to contend with doing the washing up afterwards, and we get to spend time with people we like — even if we do have to put up with Uncle Ron’s terrible jokes.’

‘I think he’s funny,’ Sophie said. ‘Are we going to Diagon Alley when we go shopping? We can go and see him and Uncle George.’

‘You are _not_ buying all your Christmas presents from Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes,’ Hermione warned her. ‘Molly and Arthur have enough to contend with from their own children without the next generation pulling a load of pranks, too. Anyway, George and Ron will no doubt be giving everyone fake wands and stuff already.’

‘Is Hattie getting presents for anyone?’ Sophie asked nonchalantly.

Hermione shook her head, looking amused at the question. ‘She’s not even a year old and doesn’t understand about Christmas yet. I don’t think buying presents is going to feature too highly on her list of things to do, do you?’

Sophie tried to hide her disappointment but didn’t quite succeed.

‘I think she might manage to get you a present, though,’ Hermione chuckled. ‘After all, you are her big sister.’

‘I know exactly what I want,’ Sophie told her.

‘It doesn’t come from Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes, does it?’ Hermione enquired suspiciously.

Sophie shook her head then, sounding innocent, she said, ‘No. It’s from Scriveners. If we’re going to Diagon Alley tomorrow I can show you.’

‘Okay, well, it looks like we _are_ going to Diagon Alley after all,’ Hermione said, sounding resigned.

‘I’d better go and make a list of everything I need to get, then,’ Sophie told her. ‘I don’t want to forget anything.’

‘Good idea,’ Hermione said approvingly. ‘But we need to be back by six o’clock at the latest. Uncle Harry’s coming round with the tree tomorrow so we need to be here when he arrives. Put marshmallows on the list, please, and I’ll make us some lovely hot chocolate while we decorate it.’

‘I love you, Mum,’ Sophie said, giving Hermione a fierce hug and a kiss before she stood up.

‘I love you, too, darling,’ Hermione said with a smile.

She watched as Sophie left the room in a far lighter mood after their talk. She leant down and picked up Boots, who was twining himself around her legs.

Looking at the cat, she sighed and said, ‘I’m going to need to go and talk to Lucius, aren’t I, Boots? Not the perfect time of year for a trip to Azkaban but I don’t have any choice, I don’t think.’

The cat stared at her inscrutably, saying nothing.

 

 

* * *

 

 

‘That must have been a bit difficult for you. What did you tell her?’ Ginny was sympathetic as Hermione told her friend about her conversation with Sophie.

Hermione took a sip of her tea. ‘The truth, of course, although I might have softened it up a bit. The thing is, Gin, I was wondering whether James has said anything to you about anyone bullying Sophie. Someone at Hogwarts told her about Lucius and I don’t believe it was one of the teachers.’

Ginny shook her head. ‘No, James hasn’t mentioned anything, but to be honest he wouldn’t. He’s a typical boy and probably hasn’t got a clue what’s going on around him. If it’s not’s Quidditch-related he’s not really interested. Sorry I can’t be of more help. Have you thought about asking Neville if he knows anything?’

‘I did speak to him about it. I popped in to see him and Hannah while we were in Diagon Alley last week but he said he had no idea either. He agreed he would ask the other teachers to see if any of them knew of anything but I’m not holding my breath.’

‘Maybe it wasn’t bullying. Perhaps it was just a stupid unthinking comment by some kid who didn’t realise Sophie didn’t know about Lucius,’ Ginny suggested.

Hermione frowned. ‘If it was, it was still a pretty nasty thing to say. They told Sophie her father was a criminal and that she wasn’t wanted . . . that she was a product of rape. What child says something like that without knowing what they’re saying?’

‘A Slytherin,’ Ginny said unhesitatingly. ‘At least when we were at school it would have been. Merlin only knows now. I haven’t really taken much notice of who of our old enemies has kids at Hogwarts but there have got to be some. Draco Malfoy’s got a child, hasn’t he?’

‘Yes, he’s got a son called Scorpius. But it won’t have been him. He’s the same age as Albus so he’s not even going to Hogwarts for another couple of years yet, and there’s no way Draco would have mentioned something so hurtful, let alone told him to talk to Sophie about it.’

Ginny didn’t look convinced. ‘Well, it’s obviously not him then, but I bet it’s one of his little crowd — shit stirring as usual. Sophie isn’t upset about it any longer, is she?’

‘I don’t think so. Not once I agreed she could send Lucius a Christmas card,’ Hermione admitted.

Ginny stared at her in astonishment. ‘Oh, Merlin’s beard, Hermione. Why did you agree to that? More to the point, why did she want to send him a card?’

‘Because she’s desperate for a father,’ Hermione said. ‘She always has been but it’s something I’ve steadfastly managed to ignore until now. She was so upset that I felt I didn’t have any choice but to agree.’

‘I imagine that came as quite a surprise to Lucius,’ Ginny said. She wasn’t smiling. She picked up a plate of mince pies that had been resting on the coffee table and offered them to Hermione, who shook her head.

‘Not as much as me turning up at the prison to discuss it with him two days before Christmas,’ Hermione countered.

Ginny groaned loudly. ‘Please tell me you’re joking. You didn’t really go and see that bastard yet again, did you? Why didn’t you just throw the card away and tell Sophie you had sent it to him? That’s what I would have done.’

Hermione shook her head. ‘I honestly didn’t really have any choice. I know Sophie too well, and unfortunately, the Christmas card is just the tip of the iceberg. She wanted to give it to the owl herself — a card sent directly from her to her father — so it would have been difficult enough to intercept it anyway, but I know what she’s hoping for. She wants him to write back to her, to acknowledge her as his daughter, and it will only continue to escalate with Lucius’ interest in her.

‘If I had tried to stop it I would have at least ruined her Christmas, and potentially her whole life. Having a father is all Sophie’s ever wanted apart from siblings, and I couldn’t bear the idea of her disappointment at not receiving a response from him nor did I want the card to be the first he knew about her.’

‘He might not have responded,’ Ginny suggested.

Hermione gave a sharp bark of a laugh. ‘You’re kidding, right? Lucius was absolutely delighted to find out he was a father again, and not once but twice. In that one visit, I made both his and Sophie’s Christmas.’

‘But what about you?’ Ginny asked, worried about Hermione again. ‘It’s all very well you making everyone else happy but how do you feel about it? I know you never wanted Lucius involved in yours or the girls’ lives, that’s why you never told him in the first place, but you’re not going to have any choice about it now, are you? It’s given him something else to hold over you; as if he hadn’t already done enough to ruin your life.’

‘Whether I like it or not, Lucius is Sophie and Hattie’s father and I can’t hate him for that, Ginny. I just can’t. I love my daughters more than anything else in the world and he’s a part of that, however much we might wish otherwise. The truth is that it was wrong of me to keep him hidden from Sophie in the first place. I knew that even back when she was four, but I was just too much of a coward to admit the truth to her — especially when my own feelings were so confused.’

‘Oh no, don’t you start with the guilt again,’ Ginny said testily. ‘Not wanting that man involved in your life wasn’t wrong, Hermione. After everything he did you shouldn’t want him to come anywhere near you. Your mistake was being so bloody kind-hearted and going to see him and putting yourself in a position where he could take advantage of you again, especially more than once. Sophie doesn’t need or deserve a dad as crappy as Lucius and you should have told her that, not pandered to her.’

‘That’s easy for you to say when you’ve got a dad who’s always there for you,’ Hermione shot back a touch bitterly, remembering and suddenly missing her own father. ‘Try to imagine what it would have been like for you if you had been raised without your dad; if your mother had never even mentioned anything about him to you, while all around you all your friends were contented and loved by their fathers. Don’t you think you might have wondered who he was and what he was like? Wouldn’t you have dreamed of him being there to give you the love you saw others getting but never received yourself?’

She rubbed her eyes and exhaled, trying to calm down, knowing that it wasn’t Ginny’s fault she didn’t understand. Finally, she admitted, ‘Sophie thought Lucius had left us because she wasn’t a good enough daughter for him, that she had done something to make him go away. I couldn’t allow her to continue to feel that pain, and I don’t believe for one minute that you would have done either.’

‘Sophie thought it was _her_ fault?’ Ginny said sounding shocked. ‘But why?’

‘Because I wouldn’t talk about him, and the one time she mentioned it I got quite upset about it. Somehow she managed to convince herself that he had gone because he didn’t want her and that she was the one ruining our lives, not him. I had no choice but to set her straight, but her desire for a father, any father, was too strong and so she needed to contact him.’

‘So what did Lucius say when you spoke to him?’ Ginny asked.

‘As I said, he was over the moon about it although he already knew. Apparently, he had managed to work out on his own that I had a child but didn’t know whether it was a boy or a girl nor whether he was the father. He was waiting for me to mention it, but of course, I never did.

‘Then Draco went to see him a few weeks ago, and during the course of their conversation, he confirmed that Sophie was his and that I’d also had Hattie. Draco only mentioned it because it was clear Lucius already knew, but he didn’t feel it was his place to give him any details about the girls, so Lucius knew no more than their names. We spent a good hour or so talking about them and I left him some photos.’

‘Did you have sex with him again?’ Ginny’s tone was sardonic as if she already knew what the answer would be.

Hermione flushed pink but she looked serene. ‘It’s Christmas, Ginny. I thought I’d give him a present.’

‘Well, I just hope he hasn’t given you another present in return,’ Ginny retorted, rolling her eyes, her mouth thin with disapproval.

‘Don’t worry, I’m not pregnant again. Two children are more than enough for me,’ Hermione chuckled. ‘But I think we’ve finally reached a new level of understanding between us and I actually feel better about the way things are than I’ve ever done. I know you won’t understand this but I think I’ve forgiven him at last.’

Ginny scowled. ‘You’re right, I don’t understand, and I’m damn sure Ron won’t when you tell him that, either.’

Hermione shrugged. ‘To be honest, Ginny, the time when I worried about what Ron thinks has long since gone. The only people I care about these days are my daughters and as this recent nastiness at Hogwarts has shown I need to be honest with them, not try to cover things up. At the end of the day it’s not going to make an awful lot of difference anyway. The earliest Lucius is eligible for release is in two and a half years’ time and a lot of things could happen between now and then.’

‘Do you think he’ll be released then?’ Ginny asked. She picked up the teapot and poured them both another cup of tea.

Hermione added the milk to her mug and stirred it before picking it up and taking a sip.

‘I don’t know. He’s definitely been a model prisoner and he has quite clearly shown that he honestly regrets the things he did, so theoretically he would be the perfect choice for parole. But the fact remains that he was a Death Eater, and even all these years later there’s little appetite for releasing them early, however repentant they may be.

‘Having said that, I’m not sure Lucius would apply for it anyway. He genuinely does believe that he deserves to be in prison so he may just accept that he’ll serve his whole sentence, in which case we’re not going to have to worry about him for another eight years. By that time Hattie will almost be old enough to go to Hogwarts.’  

‘When you put it like that it doesn’t seem quite so bad, I suppose,’ Ginny admitted. ‘Let’s just hope he doesn’t get out early, eh?’

Hermione said nothing as she took another sip of her tea.

 

 

* * *

 

 

‘Ginny told me you went to see Lucius again,’ Harry said, trying hard to keep his voice neutral so as not to start an argument.

He, Ron and Hermione were walking down the lane through the village of Ottery St Catchpole, enjoying a break from the rest of the family with a walk in the crisp, cold winter afternoon.

Hermione ignored the huge sigh and eye-roll that Ron gave at this pronouncement and turned instead to answer Harry.

‘I did, a couple of days ago. It was pretty rough, actually. Not surprisingly, the weather was diabolical and I only just managed to get back to the mainland. It would have been awful if I had got stuck there for the whole of Christmas. I bet their lunch wasn’t anywhere near as good as Molly’s.’ She paused for a moment then added, ‘Did Ginny actually bother to explain why I went or was she just expressing her disgust?’

‘She mentioned something about Sophie wanting to know about her dad, but she didn’t really go into much detail. She knew we were coming for a walk so were likely to discuss it more fully and just wanted to give me a heads-up.’

They walked past the churchyard and into the village square. Hermione led them towards a wooden bench that sat in front of the war memorial and sat down in the middle, as Harry and Ron sat either side of her.

‘I’ve never understood why you feel the need to keep going to see him, Hermione. Why don’t you just leave him to rot in there and good riddance?’ Ron said tetchily.

‘I honestly had no choice this time. I had to see him before he received Sophie’s Christmas card and wondered what in Merlin’s name was going on,’ Hermione told them. She proceeded to explain to her friends about what had happened to Sophie at school.

‘It’s bound to have been a Slytherin,’ Ron said, instantly jumping to the same conclusion as his sister. ‘They were always a bunch of wankers and I don’t suppose they’ve changed much — it’s still going to be the same families that get sorted into that House and I don’t believe they’ve all become sweetness and light just because a few of their family members ended up in prison.’

Hermione shrugged. ‘It could have been anyone, Ron. Sophie wouldn’t tell me who said it but it seemed too vicious a thing to say just in passing so I wondered if she was being bullied.’

‘Have you asked James whether he knows anything?’ Harry asked.

‘No. I mentioned to Ginny that he might have heard something but she didn’t think he had and said he hadn’t told her anything. I’d be grateful if you’d ask him, though, Harry, just in case.’

Harry nodded his agreement.

‘What about Neville?’ Ron suggested.

‘I’ve already asked him but he said he hasn’t noticed anyone picking on her or that she seems to have any trouble. He’s going to have a word with the other teachers when he goes back to school, but I think that unless James knows who it was we’re never going to find out. Hopefully, now Neville’s been alerted he’ll keep a weather eye out for Sophie and let me know if anything is going on.’

‘So how did Lucius take it, finding out he was a dad again?’ Harry asked interestedly.

‘Surprisingly well, actually. Draco seemed to think he was going to blow his top because I’d kept it a secret from him, but I knew he wouldn’t. Lucius is a completely different person these days and something like that wasn’t going to be enough to set him off, especially when there wasn’t anything he could have done about it anyway.’

‘What’s Draco got to do with it?’ Ron asked, sounding confused. ‘When did you see him?’

‘Oh, ages ago, back in the summer. I thought I’d mentioned it.’ Hermione frowned. ‘Maybe you weren’t there when I said about it. We bumped into him in the park and we had a bit of a chat. He was obviously surprised by the girls but it was nice to see him after so long. I know you two never liked him but he was really good to me in those early days at Malfoy Manor.’

Ron snorted, shaking his head as if in disgust.

‘I am not having this old argument with you again,’ Hermione told him flatly. ‘Whatever you think of Draco, he tried to help me. He stood up to his dad and got thrown out of the house because of it. When I met him again he told me he had never spoken to Lucius since that day.’

‘So at least _he_ had some sense,’ Ron said snidely. ‘It’s a shame you couldn’t have followed his example, Hermione.’

‘I suggested Draco should go and see Lucius and he did,’ Hermione informed him. ‘We have to stop the hate sometime, Ron. Things don’t get better by sweeping it under the carpet and pretending it doesn’t exist. We have to face up to what happened, accept it and move on. It’s the only way to survive — well, it is for me.

‘You know what happened when I tried to bottle it all up and I refuse to ever go through that again — and I wasn’t willing to jeopardise Sophie’s happiness just because of ancient history. Lucius is always going to have done what he did, and he will always live with that guilt just as I have to accept that it happened, but I don’t hate him for it any longer. I’ve forgiven him and moved on.’

‘Are you sure, Hermione?’ Harry studied his friend anxiously.

Hermione smiled. ‘I’m positive, Harry. I can’t let hate fill my life any longer. Lucius has completely changed from the man he was back then and that’s a good thing. He’s still locked up and will be for ages yet, but now is the time to forget the past and look to the future — to concentrate on what’s ahead, not the crap we’ve left behind. I feel better than I have done for years and it’s actually good knowing that the girls aren’t a secret that I’m worried Lucius might find out about anymore.

‘Sophie sent Draco and his family a card as well, so I’m hopeful that in the new year we might get to spend some time getting to know them better, too. I don’t expect you to become best friends with him, but a bit of civility would be a good start.’

‘And you want to see him why?’ Ron asked, sounding disgusted.

‘Because he’s Sophie and Hattie’s half-brother, for starters — and because he was _my_ brother too for a couple of months and I’d like to regain some of that familial feeling. Anyway, he could do with the support. His wife’s not at all well and from what I can gather he’s pretty much having to cope with Scorpius alone, which can’t be easy.’

‘What’s the matter with her?’ Harry asked.

‘I’m not exactly sure. Lucius said it was something to do with some old family curse that’s given her a blood disorder or something. Do you remember Pansy Parkinson’s friend, Daphne Greengrass? Well, Draco’s wife is her younger sister, Astoria. He’s completely in love with her so I imagine he must be devastated at her being so unwell.’

‘Poor chap,’ Harry said sympathetically. ‘You’re right that I never liked him, Hermione, but I wouldn’t wish that sort of misfortune on him. How old is the boy?’

‘The same age as Albus,’ Hermione said. She grinned. ‘You never know, _they_ might end up being best friends one day.’

‘I hardly think that’s likely,’ Ron scoffed. ‘I’m sure Malfoy will end up in Slytherin and Albus is going to be a Gryffindor, isn’t he?’

‘You don’t know that,’ Hermione retorted. ‘Draco thinks Scorpius might end up being Sorted into Ravenclaw like Sophie — it’s not a rule that Malfoys have to go in Slytherin just as the Potters and the Weasleys don’t have to go into Gryffindor.’

‘Although they always do,’ Ron retorted.

Hermione sighed. ‘Maybe not in the future, though. Louis is a born Hufflepuff if ever I met one, as is young Molly.’


	15. PART THREE - CHAPTER SIX

‘I’m really grateful to you, Molly. Thank you so much for stepping in at such short notice,’ Hermione said as she accepted the mug of tea the older woman gave her once she had brushed herself down from the Floo.

She blew on the tea, then took a small sip. Realising it was too hot to drink, she put the mug down on the table and caught the back of Hattie’s coat, pulling her back towards her and brushing the smuts from the Floo off her.

‘Stand still for a minute, Hattie,’ she told her youngest daughter, ‘I’m trying to clean your coat before the soot marks it.’

The little girl wriggled, giggling as Hermione ran her hands over the coat to make sure she had captured all the dirt.

‘You’re welcome, Hermione,’ Molly said with a smile as she watched mother and daughter. More sombrely she added, ‘Will you send our best wishes — mine and Arthur’s?’

Hermione released Hattie, who immediately raced off to chase the ginger kitten George had recently purchased for his parents.

‘Don’t hurt Pumpkin,’ she warned, although she knew the girl wasn’t listening. She was too excited at seeing the new cat.

She turned back to Molly and smiled. ‘Of course I will. I don’t know how long I’m going to be, though. To be honest, it’s going to depend on what sort of state Draco’s in. I don’t want to leave him if—’

Molly patted Hermione’s hand soothingly. ‘You take as long as you need, Hermione. Arthur and I are happy to have the girls — you know it’s always open house here. You just take your time and make sure that brother of yours is all right.’

Hermione hugged Molly tightly feeling extremely glad that she had her in her life, the closest thing to a mother she had. She was enjoying the feeling of the older woman’s arms around her in return, making her feel safe and cared for.

As Hermione picked up her tea she glanced at Sophie, who was sitting sullenly at the kitchen table. She could feel the waves of anger and resentment emanating from her fifteen-year-old daughter, who had been a little ray of sunshine ever since she had woken up that morning.

‘Don’t you want to go and join the others, Sophie?’ Molly asked her with a smile. ‘Louis and the girls are down in the field playing Quidditch and James, Albus and Lily should be arriving shortly. I’m sure they’ll want to play, too.’

Sophie scowled and crossed her arms tightly. ‘I don’t want to play stupid games. I want to go to the funeral.’

Hermione sighed. ‘We’ve already talked about this, Soph. It’s not going to be very pleasant so I think you’ll be better off staying here.’

‘I don’t know why you think that,’ Sophie retorted. ‘Draco’s _my_ brother so I should be there. Anyway, Scorpius is going and he’s only thirteen.’

‘That’s a bit different. Astoria was his mother,’ Hermione pointed out.

‘I know. But he’s still going to need support, just like Draco will. I mean, he didn’t even tell Albus his mum had died, did he?’

Hermione exchanged a glance with Molly as her daughter continued to sulk.

‘I think Sophie should go with you,’ Molly suggested quietly. ‘She’s a sensible girl and she’s right about Scorpius needing support too. The poor boy must be devastated, and if she’s there to look after him it will make looking after Draco easier for you because he won’t have to worry about his son so much.’

Hermione looked at her daughter, who stared back hopefully. She took another sip of her tea as she thought about it.

‘All right, you can come, but I want you on your best behaviour.’

Sophie’s scowl disappeared completely to be replaced by a radiant smile.

‘And don’t look so bloody happy about it,’ Hermione warned. ‘It’s a funeral, not a social occasion.’

‘It’s okay, Mum, I know how to act at a funeral. You don’t need to worry about me. You’ll have enough to worry about with Draco.’

‘Sadly, I think you might be right,’ Hermione admitted. She walked to the sink and put her empty mug in it. ‘Are you ready to go, then?’

‘Whenever you are,’ Sophie said.

Hermione looked at her watch. ‘It starts in fifteen minutes. I’ll just go and say goodbye to Hattie and then we’ll go.’

She left Sophie talking to Molly as she went into the lounge. Hattie was sitting on the floor stroking Pumpkin, who seemed to be more than happy with the attention.

‘We’re going now, Hattie. Make sure you do everything Grandma Molly and Grandpa Arthur tell you to do, okay?’

The little girl nodded and reached out her arms for a hug. Hermione bent down and wrapped her arms around her, squeezing her as she kissed her curly blonde head.

‘Love you, Mummy,’ Hattie said quietly.

Hermione smiled. ‘I love you, too, darling. I’ll see you later.’

She wandered slowly back to the kitchen, trying to gird herself for the afternoon ahead. It would definitely have been easier if Sophie stayed at the Burrow as she would only have Draco and Scorpius to worry about, although she could understand why her daughter felt she needed to be there. She just hoped Molly was right and that Sophie would be a help, not a hindrance.

Hermione loved her oldest daughter with all her heart, but as she moved through her teenage years Sophie was becoming something of a challenge. Part of it was typical teenage behaviour, the flexing of her metaphorical muscles: pushing boundaries to see how far she could go. But there was something else there, too: an underlying arrogance that just occasionally reared its ugly head that Hermione had no control over nor any idea why it manifested itself.

She had seen that type of behaviour before; it was the innate sense of entitlement all the Malfoys took for granted. It was clear that despite her best efforts her daughter had inherited some of her father’s traits, and not his best ones, either. All she could do when Sophie started to play up was try to rein her in, but that was becoming harder to do as she grew older.     

‘Are you ready, Soph?’ she asked.

Sophie, who was now looking like the chief mourner at the funeral, nodded as she stood up. She gave Molly a hug, then joined Hermione, slipping her arm through her mother’s. Hermione gave her a weak smile and the two of them stepped into the fireplace, ready to take the Floo to the funeral.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Hermione sighed as she joined Draco on the sofa, glad to take the weight off her feet and relax a little since the last guest had finally departed. Now just the two of them were left and it was clear to her that Draco wasn’t coping at all well. It probably hadn’t been quite so noticeable to anyone else as he had maintained the same rigid expression on his face throughout the entire afternoon and evening.

It had taken him through the service, had served him while greeting and thanking the mourners once it was over while she stood by his side, and stayed firmly fixed in place throughout the wake, regardless of who he spoke to. It hadn’t even disappeared when he dealt with Scorpius; the poor boy was almost inconsolable with grief and desperately in need of words of comfort and a big hug.

Hermione knew part of it was to do with the strict and difficult upbringing Draco had endured at the hands of his parents. Lucius had never been the most demonstrative of people, at least not in public, and Narcissa had maintained the same frosty demeanour at all times, never letting tears be shed. For the Malfoys, admitting that they needed physical comfort was seen as a weakness and it left Draco unable to grieve in the way she knew he needed to.

Molly had been right about Sophie being a big help; she had managed to provide some of the support Scorpius so badly needed. She and Albus — Scorpius had invited his best friend along, to the surprise of everyone — had sat with him during the funeral, then they had gone back to the Burrow and taken the blond boy with them, knowing that he needed to be away from the stiflingly dour atmosphere that now filled Draco’s home.

This had been a stroke of genius by her daughter, the far more relaxed atmosphere of the Weasley house would give Scorpius exactly the right environment for him to release his pent-up emotions, knowing that he was safe with friends who cared about him and wouldn’t judge him for crying. Part of Hermione wished she could take Draco there too, but she knew he would never go.

‘Do you want a drink or something?’ Draco asked, sounding weary. He seemed to realise what he had said. ‘Sorry, I don’t mean alcohol. Do you want a cup of tea or something? I can get one of the house-elves to make one.’

‘They’re busy clearing up the debris from the reception at the moment,’ Hermione said. She smiled fondly at him. ‘If you want something I can make it. I’m a dab hand at tea, you know.’ 

Draco sighed and shook his head. ‘I don’t want anything, just wanted to make sure you were catered for.’

‘Stop worrying about me, I’m fine,’ Hermione assured him. ‘It’s you I’m worried about.’

Draco gave a low, gruff laugh which sounded almost like a sob. ‘I’m okay. I just—’ He stopped, shaking his head, seemingly unable to finish the sentence.

Hermione wrapped her arms around him and gave him a hug.

‘It’s okay, you don’t have to say anything,’ she told him as he rested his head on her shoulder.

‘Thank you for coming today, Hermione. It was nice of Sophie to come as well. It was good for Scorpius to have his friends around him at such a difficult time,’ Draco said.

‘I will always be here for you, Draco. Surely you know that by now,’ Hermione told him sincerely. ‘You’re my brother and we support each other, don’t we?’

‘I wasn’t a very good brother to you, was I?’ Draco pointed out miserably. ‘Not only did I leave you in Malfoy Manor to face all that abuse on your own but I ignored you for the best part of two decades while you suffered terribly in the aftermath.’

Hermione shushed him gently and gave him a squeeze. ‘There were good reasons for both of those things and anyway, it’s all water under the bridge now. All that happened so long ago it’s nothing but a distant memory. In the last couple of years you’ve been the best brother I could ever have hoped for, so don’t start running yourself down. You don’t deserve that.’

‘I honestly don’t know what I would have done without you. I would never have got through this thing with Astoria without your assistance,’ Draco admitted. ‘It was so good of you to come and help out . . . especially at the end. You were so kind to her in her final days.’

‘She was a lovely girl. I’m just sorry you had to lose her, Draco. I would never wish that on anyone, but I know how much you loved each other and that makes it even more heartbreaking.’

They sat quietly for a few minutes, then Hermione said, ‘I don’t think your friends were too pleased about me being here, though. They seem to think I’m muscling in on you or something. There were a few bitchy comments while you were out of earshot.’

‘I don’t know what half of them were doing here anyway. I haven’t spoken to most of them since leaving school,’ Draco replied sourly. ‘Anyway, they can all go to hell as far as I’m concerned.’ He moved out of her arms to look at her anxiously. ‘What did they say? Were they really nasty to you?’

Hermione shrugged. ‘Nothing I couldn’t ignore as being petty, but I’m worried about you. You don’t need any further stress at the moment and there were a few comments about “us” as if there was something more to our relationship than there really is.’

Draco snorted. ‘Was that Pansy? She’s been driving me mad ever since she first found out Astoria was terminal. I don’t know how many times she’s mentioned to me that she’s divorced — as if I’d be interested in that conniving bitch! She even had the gall to show up on my doorstep the morning after Astoria died, hinting that she was ready to step into her shoes and that she would take my mind off what had happened. She’s a horrible bloody woman.’

‘She was one of the ones who commented,’ Hermione admitted, feeling outraged at Pansy’s behaviour; apparently scheming didn’t even begin to cover it.

‘It was her that passed out the information about the identity of Sophie’s father, too,’ Draco added angrily. ‘She told her son, Gage, who then told Godfrey Goyle — and you know what a bunch of idiots that family breeds. It seems the two of them thought it was funny so they started teasing Sophie about it. It was only a couple of times but obviously it was enough to really upset her.’

‘How do you know that?’ Hermione asked stiffly. This was the first she had ever heard of it. She was annoyed that Draco had known all along who the culprits were but had never said anything, presumably in a bid to protect his friends and their children.

‘Pansy again, of course. She only told me about it on Monday, amidst a whole bunch of other bile about malicious things she’s done to all the people she dislikes. She mentioned it because she was pleased with how upset you’d got about it, and the trouble it had caused with the teachers — the stupid woman didn’t even think about the fact that Sophie’s my sister when she told me about it so gleefully.

‘Believe me, Hermione, she knows all about it now because I told her exactly what I thought of what she had done and warned her that if anyone went up against Sophie again I would sort them out. I also had a word with Greg about it — he knew nothing about what his son had done. Anyway, he gave Godfrey a damn good talking-to, so he won’t be going near Sophie in a hurry either.’

‘I wouldn’t rate their chances of getting away with it again the way Sophie is at the moment. She’s like a bear with a sore head most of the time — she’s so bloody stroppy,’ Hermione told him. She thought for a moment then added, ‘Ron and Ginny both said it would be friends of yours.’

Draco sighed expressively. ‘I’m sorry about that, Hermione. Unfortunately, some people just can’t change. I’m sure some of them still think Voldemort’s going to come back again and then they’ll be riding high — bloody idiots. This is why Astoria and I kept away from them all — we couldn’t bear the toxicity of it.’

They sat there in silence again for a short while.

‘How’s your mum now?’ Hermione asked, feeling she ought to say something.

Draco grimaced. ‘She wanted to come to the funeral but the Healers wouldn’t let her out of the hospital. They still don’t know what’s wrong with her; they need to do more tests.’

‘I didn’t realise she was back in hospital,’ Hermione said, sounding concerned. ‘I thought she was at home recuperating and assumed she was just too weak to come today.’

‘She had a relapse last Thursday,’ Draco explained. ‘They think it’s best to keep her in until they can work out what the problem is. There’s no point in keep sending her home then having to readmit her.’

‘I’ll have to go and see her, then,’ Hermione said. ‘She must be feeling a bit disheartened. Last time I spoke to her she thought she was getting better.’

Draco gave her a weak smile ‘She’ll like that. She gets fed up with seeing me because she says I fuss too much.’

Hermione smiled back. ‘Completely understandable under the circumstances, and I’m sure she realises that.’

‘Did you see the letter my father sent?’ Draco asked now they were talking about his parents.

Hermione shook her head. ‘No, but I assume it was suitably sympathetic.’

‘It was really lovely, actually. Beautifully worded and said exactly the sort of things I should be telling Scorpius but I just don’t seem to be able to,’ Draco said.

Hermione saw he had tears in his eyes. She wrapped her arms around him again.

‘You’ll get there with Scorpius. You know what you need to say, but you need to shed some of your own grief first because it hurts too much at the moment. Being at the Burrow will do him the world of good — Molly and Arthur are both excellent at being consoling and they’ll be happy to let him stay for as long as he needs to be there. I’m sure by the time you see him again you’ll be ready to talk to him. He knows how much you love him, Draco, and he knows how difficult it is for you at the moment.’

‘Will you stay here tonight, Hermione?’ Draco asked.

‘Of course I will if you want me to.’

Draco stared at her for a moment, then said somewhat hesitantly, ‘Would you think it really weird if I asked you to share a bed with me?

‘—I don’t mean have sex or anything,’ he added quickly as if to reassure her.

Hermione hugged him tighter, thinking of the times Draco had shared her bed in Malfoy Manor, comforting her after all the awful things Lucius had done to her.

‘Not weird at all,’ she confirmed. ‘You were there to help and comfort me all those times I needed you so badly, so now it’s my turn.’

‘I feel absolutely drained,’ Draco admitted.

Hermione released him and stood up, holding out her hand to help him up too. ‘Also completely understandable. Come on then, let’s get you to bed. You’ll feel better after a good night’s sleep.’

Draco took her hand as he stood up and they walked from the lounge and down the hallway towards the stairs.

‘I just hope Pansy never finds out about this. She’ll be so jealous,’ Hermione told him teasingly.

Draco gave a short bark of a laugh. ‘I don’t think it’s going to be what she would be expecting.’

‘As long as it involves a decent night’s sleep I’m right up for it,’ Hermione said.

‘Let’s hope, eh?’

Hermione wasn’t at all surprised when Draco led her towards the guest bedroom.

‘I can’t—’ he began, sounding and looking quite upset when he glanced towards the master bedroom.

Hermione touched his arm gently and nodded to let him know she understood, then followed him into the bedroom.

The only thing she was desperately trying to work out was what she was going to wear in bed. She hadn’t considered that Draco might want her to stay so hadn’t brought anything suitable for sleep with her. The robe she was wearing was far too expensive to ruin by sleeping in it but her underwear would be uncomfortable, especially the underwired bra which she was already wearing under sufferance.

‘Have you got a spare shirt or something I could borrow?’ she asked as she began to remove her robe.

Draco was already getting undressed and looked surprised at the request.

‘Oh, yeah, I suppose we ought to wear something in bed, shouldn’t we?’ His cheeks went pink. ‘Sorry, I didn’t think about it because I don’t normally wear anything. I’ll go and get us something.’

He hurriedly disappeared out the door. Hermione used the time to go to the bathroom and have a wee, then, after she washed her hands and face she used her finger to brush some toothpaste on her teeth before giving her mouth a good rinse out with some mouthwash. It wasn’t ideal but it was better than nothing.

As she walked back through the door of the now dimly lit bedroom, Draco handed her a pale blue and white striped pyjama top. He was wearing the bottoms.

‘Will that be enough?’ he asked.

Hermione nodded and smiled as she thanked him.

Draco turned down the covers and got into bed. Hermione turned her back to him, undoing and removing her bra before putting on the top. She buttoned it up then joined Draco. He turned off the lamp on the small nightstand beside him and lay down next to Hermione.

‘I really miss her,’ he said quietly to the dark.

Hermione could hear the misery and emotion in Draco’s voice. She turned on her side, to face him.

‘I know you do. I wish there was something I could do to take the pain away but there isn’t anything.’

‘At least you’re here with me,’ he said. ‘Thank you.’

‘Go to sleep,’ she advised and turned to her normal sleeping position.

A few seconds later Draco’s arms slid around her waist as he wrapped himself around her, the way he always used to do in Malfoy Manor.

‘Goodnight, Draco,’ Hermione whispered.

She lay there not moving or speaking, just listening to Draco’s quiet sobs as he cried on her shoulder. It was a long time before either of them fell asleep.


	16. PART FOUR - CHAPTER ONE

‘There’s definitely something serious going on between James and Sophie,’ Draco said, prodding his tongs in the direction of the young couple who were sitting entwined on a swinging seat at the end of the garden, completely ignoring the fact that anyone else existed as they whispered and giggled in each other’s ears.

Hermione sighed. ‘I know. I’m a bit worried about it, actually.’

Draco took a sip from the bottle of beer that had been resting on the edge of the table where a range of meat was awaiting his cooking skills. He put some sausages and burgers on the grill and turned over the chicken that was already on there before responding.

‘What are you worried about, them having sex?’ He stared at the couple for a few seconds, then grinned wickedly. ‘To be honest, I think you might be closing the stable door on that one, Hermione. If they haven’t been at it like rabbits for at least the last year I’ll be absolutely astonished.’

Hermione looked a little surprised at his comment but shook her head dismissively.

‘I don’t really care about that so much, as long as they’re being careful. I just worry that she’s so young — too young to be involved in such a serious relationship, especially as she’s never had any other boyfriend than James.’

‘Perhaps they’re destined to be together,’ Draco intoned jokingly in a dramatic voice.

‘Maybe.’ Hermione took a mouthful of her lemonade.

‘You don’t sound convinced,’ Draco said. ‘What’s worrying you about it so much?’

Hermione sighed again. ‘Oh, I don’t know. I guess it just makes me feel uneasy. Maybe it is the sex. They just seem so young.’

‘They’ll be starting their final year at Hogwarts next month,’ Draco pointed out.

‘I know that,’ Hermione retorted coolly. ‘I just have visions of Sophie leaving school and rushing to get married and settled down without doing anything with her life first. How can she know what the world holds for her in the future if the only thing she knows is being James’ girlfriend?’

‘You sound as if you think she’s stupid. Sophie’s a Ravenclaw, remember. That girl’s going to university, don’t you worry about that. She has all sorts of big ideas and not all of them include James Potter,’ Draco informed her.

‘So you think I’m panicking over nothing, then?’ Hermione asked.

Draco grinned. ‘Being a slightly over-protective mother maybe, but I can sort of understand where you’re coming from. It must be hard watching your daughter grow up and become a beautiful young woman with ideas of her own, especially when they’re not what you had envisaged for your little princess all these years.’

‘Now you’re making me feel old and stupid,’ Hermione complained. ‘You’re right, though. I think the problem is that I still see her as my little girl and I have to remember she’s an adult now . . . whether I like it or not.’ She watched Sophie and James for a few seconds, then shook her head. ‘James asked Sophie to marry him when they were six.’

‘So they are destined for each other, then,’ Draco said.

‘I’d just feel happier if she had been out with someone else so she knew she was making the right choice.’

‘You would have settled down with Ron if you’d had the chance at that age, wouldn’t you?’ Draco asked.

Hermione frowned. ‘Yes, and it would have been the worst mistake I could ever have made with my life. But then again, Ron and I had both had other partners previously — I went out with Viktor for a while, and Ron was with Lavender.’

 _And there was Lucius_ , she thought. With a jolt, Hermione suddenly realised that Sophie was now the same age she had been when she was forced to live at Malfoy Manor; the same age as when Lucius had initiated his campaign of terror against her. Gods, if Draco was right her daughter really was far more mature than she had been at that age. Strange, because she had always considered herself so grown up. 

‘You can’t live Sophie’s life for her, Hermione,’ Draco told her sagely. ‘You have to let her make her own decisions and learn from her mistakes. Maybe in a couple of years’ time, they’ll drift apart or maybe they won’t. All you can do is be there to support her choices and pick her up and dust her off if she falls down.’

‘I know you’re right, it’s just so hard to let go,’ Hermione admitted.   

Soothingly, Draco said, ‘It’s not like you’re going to lose her completely, and James is a nice lad. She could have chosen someone far worse, then you would really have something to worry about. And don’t forget you’ve still got Hattie to dote on for a few more years yet.’

‘You’re right, I suppose,’ Hermione admitted reluctantly. ‘But she’s growing up far too fast as well. Her magic is showing more strongly now. She’s already talking about going to Hogwarts — I think the others all being there makes her think about it more. I know she misses them all when they’re at school.’

‘But that’s not for another four years yet. You’ve still got plenty of time to spend with her first,’ Draco said soothingly, realising Hermione was getting maudlin.

‘Yeah, but it’ll be gone just like that,’ Hermione clicked her fingers. ‘Sometimes I look at them and wonder where the years have disappeared to. Don’t you ever look at Scorpius and think that?’

Draco grinned. ‘Not really. Most of the time I find myself thinking about strangling the little sod.’

‘Things still not going too well between the two of you?’ Hermione asked with concern.

Draco shrugged. ‘Things are still difficult but it’s mainly because he’s at that age. Logically, I know that, but it’s still a minefield.’ He sighed loudly. ‘Why do they all get so stroppy when they hit their mid-teens? I’m sure we weren’t that bad when we were their age.’

‘Harry definitely was,’ Hermione remembered. ‘I mean, I know he had a lot going on but for the whole of the fifth year he did nothing but shout. And the angst — gods, it was almost unbearable.’

‘Scorpius’ problem appears to stem from the fact that he can’t seem to accept that I don’t care about him being gay,’ Draco said despondently. ’I just want him to be happy, Hermione, like you do with Sophie, but it seems like he wants me to be annoyed with him and intolerant of his choices. It’s almost like he’s doing it deliberately in order to wind me up.’

‘Scorpius’ sexuality is not a phase or an act,’ Hermione pointed out.

‘I know that,’ Draco retorted. He took another sip of his beer. ‘I’m perfectly happy with his sexuality — although I’ll admit it was a little galling at first to discover he had fallen in love with a Potter. I just don’t understand why he has to make everything so hard all the time.’

Hermione gave a sympathetic laugh. ‘Because everything’s a drama for them at that age anyway, and however supportive _you_ are towards him, unfortunately, there are always going to be others who aren’t quite so accepting. Scorpius and Albus have to deal with people like that on a regular basis and I’m sure it makes them doubt themselves sometimes, let alone the rest of us.

‘I think if anything, Scorpius is probably using you to get a positive reaction about his relationship to counterbalance the negative ones, even if it seems like he’s winding you up about it. All you can do is keep showing him that you love and support him. Once he comes out of the other side of teen gloom he’ll be much better, I promise he will. Harry’s having the same problems with Albus. He’s always complaining about him being a mardy git.’

‘It’s bloody awful being a parent sometimes, isn’t it? I know you’re right but it’s so hard, and I can’t help wondering if Astoria would have dealt with it all so much better than me.’ Draco’s voice caught as he mentioned his late wife.

‘I can assure you that Scorpius would still be just as moody even if his mother were here. Astoria wouldn’t have been able to get through to him any more than you can,’ Hermione assured him gently. ‘Anyway, look on the bright side: at least he told you about it. He isn’t trying to hide it from everyone, terrified about coming out.’

‘That was only because he was trying to shock me. But as I told him, I thought it was bloody obvious. I’d have been more shocked if he’d told me he was straight.’

Draco picked up a warming dish and began placing the cooked meat in it.

‘Am I going to upset your house-elves if I go and make the salad?’ Hermione asked.

Draco shrugged. ‘They’re already sulking because I insisted on doing the cooking today.’

‘I have to admit you have taken to the Muggle art of barbequing rather well,’ Hermione said with a grin.

‘There’s just something about it that’s quite satisfying and relaxing, especially on a lovely summer’s day like this,’ Draco said. ‘It’s brilliant, relaxing with all this fire and beer.’

Hermione wrinkled her nose. ‘It must be a bloke thing. I really don’t see the need to char-grill everything until it’s almost inedible, but Harry and Ron are exactly the same as you. The first sign of sun and everyone’s stuck in the garden risking food poisoning and pretending to enjoy it.’

‘I think it taps into a part of the male psyche,’ Draco told her. ‘First, there’s that need to provide for the family, to keep them well fed. Then there’s the adventure—’

‘The only adventure I can see in barbequing is whether or not you get to poison everyone with undercooked food,’ Hermione grumbled, cutting him off. ‘I’m going to go and sort the salad out. Do you want another drink while I’m there?’

Draco shook his almost empty bottle. ‘Yes, please. You’d better see if you can find the boys as well. This chicken is almost cooked to perfection.’ He indicated the grill on which several bits of meat, just starting to turn black, resided.

‘Only on the outside. I bet it’s still raw in the middle,’ Hermione retorted.

‘You worry unnecessarily,’ Draco said airily.

‘I’ll see you shortly,’ Hermione said and wandered back towards the house.

As soon as she was out of sight Draco pulled his wand from his pocket and used it to ensure that the meat was cooked through, then transferred it to the warming dish and put some more sausages on the grill. He sat down and finished his beer as he looked around the garden, enjoying the peace.

James and Sophie were still on the swing seat; they were kissing now. Draco made a mental note to have a quiet word with his half-sister to make sure they were being careful. It would definitely come better from him than if Hermione confronted her about it. There had been quite a lot of tension between the two of them over the last couple of years, seemingly a by-product of the same teen angst his son was currently going through.

Hattie was playing with his dog, Bingo. The soppy animal was dressed in a bonnet and shawl and appeared to be giving the little girl’s dolls a ride. Draco shook his head and chuckled to himself. The brindle boxer was so daft but he loved Hattie and would accept just about anything she did to him. It was a shame Hermione didn’t have room for a dog when Hattie clearly had such an affinity for them, but with two cats already in the family, there wasn’t enough room in the small flat for a dog too, not even one of the small yappy ones.

He wandered over to join his half-sister and she smiled happily and indicated Bingo, who had a slightly woebegone look on his face.

‘Draco, look, Bingo’s pretending to be a horse,’ Hattie told him.

Draco nodded. ‘But why’s he wearing a shawl and hat? That’s not normal horse attire.’

‘The hat’s to stop his head getting too hot in this heat — and that’s not a shawl, it’s a saddle,’ she explained seriously. Draco could hear Hermione’s bossy voice coming out of the little girl and couldn’t help but grin.

‘I think he’s probably getting a bit hot in that,’ he suggested mildly. ‘Dogs aren’t like humans so he doesn’t really need the hat. With all that hair he’s already overheating, and the clothes make it worse. If you look at him you can see he’s panting. That’s the way dogs cool themselves down. He probably just wants to go and lie in the shade for a while. Shall we take the clothes off him and let him go and have a sleep?’

For a moment Hattie’s face set into a stubborn frown and Draco fully expected her to say no and throw a tantrum, but then she looked at Bingo again and nodded. She undid the bonnet and pulled the shawl from his back, the two dolls spilling to the ground as she did so. Before they could land they stopped, hovering in midair. Ignoring them, Hattie hugged Bingo, telling him he was a good dog and should go and sleep in the shade. As soon as she released him Bingo wandered away and settled himself under a large bush. Draco was unable to work out whether he had done it because he wanted to or because Hattie had told him to do it.

Draco looked at the dolls. ‘Did you do that, Hattie?’ he asked, knowing it had to have been her.

Hattie shrugged uncaringly. ‘They were going to fall on the ground otherwise, and they would get dirty.’

She plucked the dolls from the air, seeming to not consider what she had done to be unusual.

‘Come and sit down. Lunch is almost ready,’ Draco told her. ‘Your mother’s just gone to get the bread and salad.’

Hattie’s nose wrinkled at the mention of salad but she obediently followed Draco back to the table.

‘Sit yourself down. I’m just going to go and get Sophie and James. Scorpius and Albus should be out shortly, too.’

Draco turned to look at the house. Hermione was coming out of the door carrying a loaded tray. Ahead of her were Albus and Scorpius, both dressed head to toe in black, not the ideal colour for the current heat. They were carrying various items Hermione had loaded them up with although neither looked happy about it.

‘Do you want a glass of water, Hattie?’ Hermione asked once she had moved the contents of the tray to the table. ‘Sophie, James, what do you two want?’

‘Water will be fine for me,’ Sophie replied. She picked up the large purple jug full of iced water. ‘Do you want some?’ she asked James.

He smiled at her. ‘Go on then, why not?’

Sophie poured the water into three glasses and gave one to her sister before sitting down. Hermione began to put some of the salad on one of the plates, then passed it to Hattie. The little girl stared at it mournfully as if her mother was trying to poison her.

‘It’s only a little bit of salad. You can manage that much,’ Hermione told her.

She took the lid off the warming dish and looked at the meat resting inside. Picking up a fork, she speared one of the rather charred sausages and put it on the plate next to the salad.

‘Do you want some chicken?’ she asked the little girl.

Hattie nodded, prodding at the blackened sausage with her finger.

‘It’s burnt,’ she said quietly.

‘I know, but that’s the joy of barbeques apparently. Just scrape away the burnt bits,’ Hermione advised in a loud whisper.

‘Can I have a roll, Al?’ James said to his brother.

Albus grinned and threw a burger bun across the table at him. It split apart, one half flopping onto the table, the other landing face-down on the grass.

James scowled at him. ‘Bloody idiot.’

‘All right, calm down, everyone. No fighting. There are plenty more rolls, James,’ Draco told him as he picked up the bread basket and passed it to the boy. ‘There are more sausages cooking too, so don’t be shy about helping yourself.’

Hermione, who was still sorting out Hattie’s food, was now cutting into the chicken. She gingerly pulled it apart, fully expecting it to be almost raw in the middle, but was surprised to see that it was cooked all the way through. Looking up, she saw Draco watching her with a glint in his eye.

‘Told you it would be perfect,’ he said smugly.

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him. ‘You didn’t get it like that by cooking it on there.’ She indicated the barbeque grill.

Draco just shrugged and took a mouthful of his beer.

‘Is there any ketchup?’ Albus asked, looking around the table. He was in the midst of putting together what appeared to be a monumental burger.

‘It’s probably still in the fridge,’ Scorpius said. ‘I’ll go and get it for you.’

He stood up and mooched slowly across the lawn back towards the house.

‘That burger’s going to topple in a minute,’ James prophesied smugly. ‘You’re such a greedy guts, Al.’

‘You’re just jealous because you didn’t think about making one yourself,’ Albus retorted.

‘Can I have a burger like that, Mummy?’ Hattie asked. She was staring at the huge stack in wonder.

‘You can have a burger once you’ve eaten everything else on your plate,’ Hermione answered, ‘and that includes the salad. Just pushing it around the plate doesn’t count as eating it.’

Hattie gave a huge sigh but then picked up a forkful of lettuce and ate it.

‘Here you go.’ Scorpius handed the ketchup to Albus as he plonked himself back down. He picked up his glass, took a long drink, then picked up the jug and refilled the glass with water.

‘This is really nice, isn’t it?’ Draco told Hermione once everyone was well into the meal. ‘Admit it, Hermione, this barbeque was a good idea.’

‘I like us all sitting down together and enjoying the meal,’ Hermione allowed, ‘but I’m still not keen on burnt food, even if you did somehow manage to cook the chicken properly.’

‘I just need to go to the loo. Does anyone want anything while I’m in the house?’ James asked, standing up. There was a chorus of no’s and he rushed off.

‘You used magic to cook the chicken, didn’t you?’ Hermione said knowingly.

Draco ignored her for a couple of seconds but then smiled. ‘Yes. You’re right, it doesn’t cook properly otherwise, and there’s no way I want Ginny coming down on me like a ton of bricks for poisoning her precious sons.’

‘You might just as well have not bothered with the barbeque, then,’ Hermione retorted, ‘and you could at least have got rid of the burnt bits.’

‘As everyone will tell you, the burnt bits are what make barbeque food,’ Draco pointed out.

‘I think we just have to agree to disagree on this.’

James came hurrying back to the table looking slightly anxious.

‘There’s a man waiting outside your front door, Mr Malfoy,’ he told Draco, pointing back in the direction of the house.

Draco smiled. ‘Oh good. He’s finally arrived. Better late than never, I suppose. Thank you for letting me know, James.’ He stood up, dropping his napkin onto his plate, and looked round the table. ‘Carry on eating, everyone. I’ll be back in a minute.’

James retook his place at the table as Hermione watched Draco walk towards the house. She frowned, trying to work out who he would have invited to a family barbeque. She couldn’t think of anyone —  it obviously wasn’t Harry because James would have recognised his father, and he wouldn’t have come without Ginny anyway.

The others were obviously wondering who the strange visitor was too and began talking amongst themselves about it.

‘Did you know the man?’ Sophie asked quietly.

James shook his head. He chewed to finish the bite of burger he had just taken then said, ‘I think he’s a relative of yours, though. He’s got the same blond hair as you lot.’

Scorpius looked confused. ‘Well, I don’t know who it can be. Dad doesn’t have any siblings and his cousins are all dead. Unless it’s someone from the extended family, but I don’t know why they would be visiting us. Dad doesn’t keep in contact with anyone these days.’

‘Well, we’ll find out in a minute. Here they come now,’ James said, pointing towards the door.

Hermione stared at the two men coming towards them, horror rising within her as she recognised who was with Draco. It was the only person it could have been, and she couldn’t believe she hadn’t worked it out as soon as James mentioned the hair colour.

She could feel her heart pounding so fast suddenly that she thought it might burst from the sudden stress. Part of her hoped it would then she wouldn’t have to face what was coming. Her stomach lurched and she had the urge to throw up, the food in her stomach roiling uncomfortably.

Hermione was shaking and she could feel tears filling her eyes, so thick already that she could hardly see. She stood up, the urge to flee, screaming, coursing through her body while at the same time she was stuck, frozen in place, totally unable to move.

Sophie had stood up too, a smile splitting her face as she looked at Draco and Lucius.

‘Daddy,’ she said excitedly. ‘It’s my daddy.’

Hermione took a deep breath to calm herself down, desperate not to make a fool of herself in front of the children. She coughed to try to clear away the tears but it worked no better than fighting the urge to retch or the desire to run away.

What the hell was Lucius doing here, free from Azkaban? She’d had no idea he was being released early. As far as Hermione knew his appeal for early parole had been denied when he had applied for it two years before and Draco hadn’t mentioned anything about him having another attempt. She had thought he was going to serve the full twenty-five years — another two years yet — but here he was, as large as life and allowed to have a wand again, free to do whatever he wanted, and he was coming towards her. 

‘Look who’s finally home, Hermione,’ Draco said happily. ‘They’ve released him at long last.’

Hermione was honestly unable to speak. Her mind was whirling with thoughts that made no sense or made too much sense.

Lucius was smiling and he raised his hand in a wave.

Hermione shook her head in denial, her breathing becoming shallower and faster as her anxiety increased at Lucius’ approach. She couldn’t accept this. She couldn’t deal with it — didn’t want to deal with it. She didn’t want Lucius to be out of prison and able to hurt her again.

Suddenly freed from the terror that held her in place, she ran, the tears streaking down her face, loud sobs of despair escaping as she swerved to avoid the two men and dashed into the house, slamming the door behind her.

She couldn’t think properly, couldn’t work out what she should do now. As her panicking mind flitted from thought to thought, never alighting for more than a fraction of a second on any of them, she ran for the loo, needing only to rid herself of her lunch, which was roiling queasily.

Once Hermione had been sick she stayed seated on the floor, sobbing piteously as her world crumbled around her once again. The annoying thing was that she had been doing so well, too. It had been almost six years since she had last found herself on unstable ground and begun relapsing into the depression and despair that had characterised so much of her late teens and twenties.

Reconnecting with Draco and rediscovering the kinship they had shared during those terrible days at Malfoy Manor had made her life more solid than it had ever been, his support aiding her to finally conquer the past. Now Hermione realised just how fragile the world she had built for herself truly was; how once again she had lied to herself and her friends, and now she was going to suffer the consequences once more.

Her first thought was to run away; to leave Draco’s house and get as far away from Lucius as she could manage. But her daughters were still outside, were out there with the man who was their father but was never meant to be their father.

There was no way she could go back out there to get them, even if they were willing to come — which she suspected in the case of Sophie would be negative — and she couldn’t go without them. Her children were her life; without them there was no reason to go on. She wasn’t willing to give them up just because Lucius was now free and thought he should be in their lives.

Miserably she wrapped her arms around herself, pulling into a ball as she wept, unable to stop the years from rolling back and devouring her. She was so wrapped up in her own little world that Hermione didn’t hear the tentative knock on the bathroom door.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Draco stood outside the bathroom door completely perplexed about what was happening. He could hear Hermione crying so hard that it sounded as if her entire world had come crashing down around her ears. He felt suddenly impotent and confused and had no idea what was going on or what to do to sort the situation. It was true that he had expected some emotion at his father’s appearance, but he hadn’t expected anything as strong or as negative as Hermione’s outburst had been.

His father was obviously devastated by Hermione's reaction. His face had crumpled with pain as she ran away from him although he came around a little when Draco introduced him to Sophie and Hattie.

Sophie was overjoyed to finally meet the father she had been writing to but had never been allowed to see. Hattie was more cautious, upset herself at Hermione’s conniption fit and shy at meeting someone who was a complete stranger to her regardless of who he was. Sophie helped to break the ice there, by assuring her sister that their father was someone she could talk to and that Mummy was going to be fine.

Draco, anxious to get to Hermione to see what was wrong, left them all to get acquainted after also introducing Scorpius to his grandfather. Although his father being released early was definitely a surprise, for Hermione, at least — Draco had known all about his parole hearing and had purposely arranged the barbeque for the day he was due to be released — he had thought she would be happy at the news that his father was no longer locked away in that terrible prison.

Although their relationship had never followed a conventional route and despite their early history, there was definitely a romance between his father and Hermione, one that could now, finally, be explored in more depth with his release.

In the years since Draco had first visited his father in Azkaban after that initial prompt from Hermione, the two of them had become much closer — far more so than they had been during his childhood. His father had changed so much, mainly because of Hermione, he knew. Now there was a tenderness in his manner and a willingness to be open to emotion that had never been there during Draco’s formative years and it had made his father a much nicer person in every way.

Draco knew how much his father loved Hermione and had thought that with her having forgiven him for what had happened in the past there was a good chance for the two of them to move forward together, to create a loving family with their daughters; for his father to give her the love and support he had talked about so often and that she had needed for so long.

Now he wasn’t so sure.

‘Hermione, are you okay?’ he asked, the worry evident in his tone.

There was no response except for more sobbing.

Draco turned the handle of the door and pushed. It began to move and he realised she hadn’t locked it. Within seconds he was inside the bathroom, joining Hermione on the floor, pulling her from the defensive ball she had created and rocked her gently as he whispered the soothing words that he knew would comfort her.

It was worrying, though. This was too much like the way she had been at Malfoy Manor, the way she used to react in the aftermath of the abuse his father subjected her to. It was as if she had regressed to those days and saw his father as the enemy he had once been rather than the potential suitor he hoped to be.

Draco sat there patiently, still soothing and calming, waiting for Hermione to finally stop crying and talk to him so he could understand why she had reacted this way.

‘I need a drink,’ Hermione croaked eventually. Her voice sounded raw from all the crying and her eyes were red-rimmed and bloodshot.

‘I’ll get you some water,’ Draco said. He released her from his arms and began to stand up.

‘I mean a real drink,’ Hermione said tersely. ‘I need alcohol.’

Draco looked at her in surprise. It had been almost two decades since Hermione had touched an alcoholic drink.

‘You don’t need one,’ he told her gently. ‘You’ve gone without for too long to give it all up now just because of a little surprise.’

Hermione glared at Draco, her eyes narrowing with anger. Now that she had stopped crying she was furious with him for what he had done to her. He had known his father was getting out of prison — had been expecting him to join them for the barbeque — and he hadn’t once thought to warn her it was happening.

‘You have no right to tell me what I can and can’t do, Draco. If I want a bloody drink I’ll have one and you’re not going to stop me.’

‘You’re right, I can’t stop you. But if you have one then you’ll want another, and another. You know what you used to be like.’

‘How would you know what I was like? I never saw you, did I?’ Hermione retorted bitterly. She shook her head sadly, the tears returning. ‘You have no idea—’

‘I heard all about you, working at the Ministry,’ Draco shot back nastily. ‘Everyone knew about you and the unsavoury things you used to get up to when you’d had a drink.’

Even as he said it, guilt and anger flared in Draco in equal measure. Fighting to push them back down, he rinsed out the glass the toothbrushes were kept in, filled it with water, then re-joined Hermione on the floor. He held out the glass to her. She stared at it but didn’t take it.

‘Drink the water, Hermione. You need it, your throat sounds sore.’ He pushed the glass into her hand. ‘I’m not trying to upset you or stop you from doing what you want, but I know you’ll only regret it if you have alcohol.’

Hermione took a sip of the water. It eased her parched throat, still sore from where she had been sick, so she drank some more.

‘You have done so well, got through so many difficult situations without resorting to drinking again,’ Draco continued soothingly. ‘Don’t let this be the one that breaks you. I know it was a surprise—’

‘You knew,’ Hermione accused unhappily. ‘You knew he had got parole and you never told me. You never told me they were letting him out.’

Draco sighed. ‘I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I obviously misjudged what your reaction was going to be. I thought it would be a nice surprise for you . . . for all three of you.’

Hermione gave a sharp bark of a laugh. ‘A nice surprise! The man who raped and tortured me so many times I can’t even remember them all, who almost killed me over a dozen times, has been released from prison and given his wand back, and you think it would be a nice surprise to suddenly spring him on me.’

Draco was stunned by the ferocity of Hermione’s comment.

‘I thought you had forgiven my father for what happened,’ he said quietly. ‘You told me you had forgiven him. Gods, Hermione, you have two children with the man and you’ve had sex with him Merlin only knows how many times while he was in Azkaban.’

‘I know,’ Hermione said, wiping away the tears that were falling once again. ‘I thought I _had_ forgiven him. I worked so hard . . . you have no idea how hard I tried, Draco. But I was deceiving myself . . . and everyone else, too.’

‘I don’t understand,’ Draco said.

Hermione gave a huge sigh, looking so miserable that he pulled her into his arms again.

‘I really thought I had forgiven him,’ Hermione reiterated when the comfort of Draco’s arms had soothed her once more. ‘But he was locked away without access to his wand and couldn’t do anything to me — not without being punished. Ted would never have let him hurt me again, I knew that. That’s why I felt safe to go and see him . . . why we—’ She broke off as a fresh wave of weeping took over.

Draco thought he was beginning to understand and knew he had made a grievous error in not giving Hermione time to come to terms with his father’s impending release.

‘Now he’s here,’ Hermione continued in a small scared voice. ‘He’s got his wand back and he can do what he wants and no one can stop him.

‘—I’m so scared, Draco,’ she admitted, her voice no higher than a whisper now.

Draco hugged Hermione to him, whispering into her hair, trying to convince her that she had nothing to worry about, that there was no reason for her to be scared of his father. He was as sure as he could be that his father had changed, that the man who left Azkaban today could never do any of the things the madman that had entered the prison had done to Hermione twenty-three years before.

But now she had said the words he could understand better her reaction. It was easy to forgive your aggressor when he was locked away, surrounded by guards, and there was no chance he could do anything to you without attracting further punishment. It was a completely different matter when he was standing opposite you, free, and as Hermione had said, able to do whatever he wanted.

‘He’s not going to hurt you,’ Draco said once Hermione was able to listen to him. She looked at him sceptically. ‘I know you don’t believe me, Hermione but it’s true. He’s in love with you. You know he is, and you also know he’s a changed man.’

Hermione shook her head, looking miserable. ‘I don’t know anything anymore. I feel as if my whole world has disappeared and I’m left floating in space with nothing to cling onto. It’s as if everything I worked so hard to build has crumbled away, leaving me in freefall, and I don’t know what is up or down, what’s right or wrong—’

Draco stared at her, the feeling of guilt giving him a pain in his stomach. Keeping his voice deliberately soft he said, ‘That was all my fault and I’m truly sorry. You know I would never do that to you deliberately. If I’d had even the slightest inkling of how you really felt . . . or if I wasn’t so stupid and had thought about it properly, I would have realised that him suddenly turning up out of the blue wasn’t going to be the best idea. But he was so excited about being released and getting to see you again in a normal environment rather than locked away in that cell, and he was so eager to meet the girls that I didn’t stop to think about the problems it could cause.

‘I understand why you’re worried but I really believe you have no reason to fear my father, and I think that once you get over the shock of his release and calm down you’ll realise that I’m right. You’ve spent twenty-odd years talking to him, Hermione — you know him better than anyone else, I think, except for maybe his guard, and you accepted it when he told you he had changed.’

‘I can’t deal with this at the moment,’ Hermione admitted. ‘I can’t see him or speak to him. I’m sorry, Draco but I can’t. I need to go home — no, not home, I can’t go there in case he follows me. I need to leave. I need to get the girls and then we need to leave.’

‘I’m happy for the girls to stay here if you want some time to sort yourself out,’ Draco offered.

‘ _No!_ I need them with me. They’re what keeps me sane; they stop me going off the deep end.’

‘You might have a bit of trouble with Sophie,’ Draco warned her. ‘She’s really made up at finally meeting and spending some time with her father—’

‘—and I’m not her favourite person at the moment,’ Hermione finished unhappily.

‘I wouldn’t go that far, but I don’t think she’s going to want to leave, not without an explanation.’

‘Can you talk to her for me, please, Draco? You don’t have to tell her everything. I’ll explain it properly once we’re away from here, but I really need her to come with me.’ Hermione looked downcast. ‘You ought to talk to your dad as well. Apologise to him for me for my behaviour but tell him I’m not ready—’

Draco patted her hand. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll sort it out with both of them.’ He grinned. ‘You look a mess. Get yourself cleaned up while I talk to everyone and get it all sorted out. Do you still want a drink?’

‘Yes.’

Draco looked surprised at Hermione’s answer.

She shrugged. ‘I always want a drink. The desire never leaves, or not for long, anyway. But I’m not going to have one.’

Draco stood up and held out his hand to help Hermione up.

She gave him a wan smile. ‘Thank you for talking sense to me.’

‘I’m sorry for what I said about you,’ Draco said, feeling a bit embarrassed.

Hermione gave him another smile and stroked his arm. ‘No need to apologise. You didn’t say anything that wasn’t true, and you’re right: I don’t want to end up like that again.’ 

‘I’ll see you shortly,’ Draco said as he left Hermione in the bathroom.

He went to the lounge and used the Floo to contact Harry, hurriedly explaining to him what had happened and requesting that he help. Harry agreed immediately, and he and Ginny soon joined him at the house. Ginny went off to find Hermione while Harry went with Draco, heading for the garden and the others.

‘It never occurred to me that she was lying when she said she’d forgiven him,’ Draco told Harry.

‘Hermione’s always been very good at deceiving everyone — including herself,’ Harry pointed out. ‘But I don’t think she was really lying, I think she just didn’t understand that she could only feel like that while Lucius was locked away.’

‘I feel really bad now,’ Draco admitted. ‘I thought it would be a good thing, but it went completely wrong and now everyone’s upset. Hermione doesn’t even want to go back to her flat in case my father goes looking for her. He won’t, of course, because I’ll make sure he understands why he has to give her space to get used to him being free. But I don’t think I can convince her of that.’

‘Hermione can stay at our place until she feels happier about going home. We’ll send the kids to the Burrow — the others are all there already and Molly and Arthur won’t mind a few more. You talk to your dad and I’ll have a chat with Sophie, explain things to her,’ Harry offered. ‘We’ll take James and Albus with us as well. It’ll give you and Scorpius a chance to spend some time alone with Lucius so he can get to know him better — although if you want to send Scorpius to the Burrow too he’ll be more than welcome. I’m sure Sophie won’t mind coming with us too much if James is going too.’

‘That would be a real help,’ Draco admitted. He sighed. ‘The thing is, I know my father really has changed and he’s completely in love with Hermione. He’s desperate to make a go of things with her.’

‘He’s just going to have to give it time and prove to Hermione that he’s changed,’ Harry said. ‘Once she gets over the shock of him being free she’ll be more amenable to getting to know him. I think we all know she’s got feelings for him too — she’s had two kids with him, after all. If he really has changed they’ll get there eventually. It’s just going to take some time to build up the trust between them.’

‘Do you think I’m wrong to encourage it?’ Draco asked seriously.

Harry thought about it for a few seconds then shook his head. ‘I don’t think we’d be able to stop it even if we wanted to. There’s obviously something between them — even him being locked away in Azkaban didn’t diminish it. I think even if we try to stop them seeing each other they’ll still get together eventually. It’s probably best for everyone if we let them get on with it but make sure that we’re there to step in and sort out any problems along the way. They’re both going to need close watching for a while, whatever happens.’

‘You’re probably right,’ Draco admitted.

Harry smiled. ‘Don’t worry, Draco. It’ll sort itself out eventually. These things always do.’


	17. PART FOUR - CHAPTER TWO

‘For Merlin’s sake, child, will you stop fussing? My hair looks fine as it is,’ Hermione said, trying to keep her temper under control. Sophie was flitting around her like a moth to a flame and it was beginning to drive her insane.

‘I just want to make sure you look your best,’ Sophie said, placing a final clip to hold her mother’s hair in the position in which she had just styled it. ‘There . . . see . . . doesn’t that look better than your usual explosion?’

She grinned smugly at her mother as they both stared in the mirror.

‘It looks very nice,’ Hermione conceded. ‘But I think it’s a bit much for—’

‘Now you need to do your makeup,’ Sophie said, ignoring her comment.

She opened a massive case and started pulling bottles, compacts and brushes from within its depths, inspecting and considering their merits as she did so. Hermione watched her in horror, wondering why on earth a beautiful young woman would need so many things to cover her face in. Surely mascara and a touch of lipstick with a little powder to remove the shine was enough, wasn’t it?

‘The foundations you get these days work wonders, so much better than the ones from years ago. It’ll knock years off you by the time I’ve finished,’ Sophie told her as she continued to extract items from the case.

‘Are you saying I look old?’ Hermione asked indignantly. She peered at herself in the mirror, feeling slightly disgruntled with her daughter. She thought she looked pretty good for a forty-three-year-old, her wizard genes ensuring that she didn’t look anywhere near that age.

‘You’re all right, but no one’s perfect. We could all do with a bit of help,’ Sophie said. She studied her mother critically. ‘Your eyebrows need sorting out, too. When was the last time you did them?’

Hermione shrugged. ‘I don’t know, a couple of years ago . . . maybe.’ Sophie gave a loud, put-upon sigh. Hermione put her hand over her eyebrows. ‘What? There’s nothing wrong with my eyebrows.’

‘Nothing that a good plucking won’t put right. Don’t worry, I’ll soon sort them out.’ Sophie now brandished a wickedly sharp pair of tweezers. ‘Turn the chair round, Mum.’

‘I don’t think I need—’ Hermione began.

‘You can’t go out with your eyebrows looking like that,’ Sophie said, sounding distraught.

‘I don’t see why not. I’ve been going out with them looking like this for forty-odd years,’ Hermione shot back.

Sophie rolled her eyes. ‘But today’s different. You need to make a good impression and look your best. Now turn that chair round and let me pluck your eyebrows. We’ve still got a lot to do and time’s ticking away.’

Sighing herself now, Hermione turned the chair and sat down again, waiting slightly impatiently as Sophie shaped her eyebrows, hissing a few times at the pain as the stray hairs were removed.

‘There, that’s better,’ the girl finally announced, and she rummaged in the case for a hand mirror. She passed it to Hermione, who studied her new eyebrows. It was true that they did look better than the ungroomed mess she had somehow managed to survive with up until this point in her life, but now her forehead and eyelids were red and puffy. Sophie’s hand was suddenly in front of her face, gently massaging some cooling gel into the red skin.

‘Witch hazel. It’ll close the pores and help get rid of the redness,’ Sophie explained. ‘Have you decided what you’re wearing? We want your makeup to complement it, not contrast garishly.’

‘I was thinking I’d wear my black trousers and my cream jumper, the cashmere one. I’ll put a jacket over it and—’     

‘No, no, no, no, no,’ Sophie said, shaking her head vigorously as if the words weren’t enough. ‘You’re going on a date. You need to dress up.’

‘We’re only going out for a spot of tea,’ Hermione said.

‘You are going for afternoon tea at the Black Dragon, Mum. It’s a top class hotel so you should dress up for it.’

Hermione sighed. ‘It’s just tea. I don’t think anyone’s going to care what I’m wearing, Sophie.’

‘It’s your first official date with Dad,’ Sophie pointed out. ‘You need to make the effort to look nice.’

‘I don’t see why. He already knows perfectly well what I look like. It’s not like I’m going on a blind date, is it?’ Hermione retorted grumpily.

‘Don’t you want to look good for him?’ Sophie asked, sounding upset.

Hermione sighed again. ‘All that makeup and stuff just aren't as important to me as it is to you young girls. Lucius and I have known each other for thirty years, Soph, and I’m sure he’s not going to be too bothered about plucked eyebrows or whether I’m wearing a jumper to a posh hotel.’

Sophie had flung open the doors of Hermione’s wardrobe and was rummaging around inside it with gay abandon, clearly searching for something specific. A moment later she emerged holding a coat hanger containing a pale green robe.

‘You need to wear this. It’s really lovely and will be perfect for afternoon tea.’ She walked towards the mirror holding it up against herself as she studied the pretty robe, turning this way and that as she imagined herself wearing it. ‘I’ve never seen it before. Why have you never worn it? It’s such a lovely dress. You were obviously keeping it for a special occasion so today will be perfect.’

She twirled with the robe, then did a small bow before holding it out to Hermione.

Hermione stared at the dress, trying to stop the nausea that suddenly threatened at the sight of it. She hadn’t seen the bloody thing for a long time; since she had shoved it in the back of the cupboard in an attempt to get it out of sight and mind.

She had obviously been too successful in that and had completely forgotten it was there otherwise she would have done something about getting rid of it years ago. What were the chances of it reappearing today, just at the time when she so badly needed to forget about what had happened all those years ago? Was it some sort of sign?

‘Take it away, Sophie. I can’t wear it.’ Hermione just about managed to choke the words out.

‘But it’s lovely!’ Sophie cajoled.

‘NO! Take it away now,’ Hermione shouted, not meaning to lose her temper with her daughter but unable to stop herself as her world tilted savagely.

Looking shocked at her mother’s reaction, Sophie ran from the room, taking the dress with her.

Hermione sat there looking after her daughter, feeling the teardrops as they fell onto her cheeks. Sophie was right, the dress was beautiful and she knew it had been expensive, too. It was one of a whole wardrobe of outfits presented to her after her rescue from Malfoy Manor and subsequent release from hospital.

Molly and Arthur had never confirmed it, but Hermione had always suspected that the Ministry of Magic had paid for them as compensation for what she had endured due to their mistake — the gift of a wardrobe of fine clothes apparently considered sufficient payment for everything she had suffered.

At the time she hadn’t really cared — she needed clothes, and although not really to her taste now that she wasn’t pretending to be a Malfoy any longer, she had accepted and worn them. Being such good quality they had lasted for many years.

But she had never once worn that robe.

From the moment she had unwrapped it from the box it had arrived in it had made her blood run cold and she wanted only to burn it, to be rid of it as the other robe, almost identical in both colour and style, had needed to be destroyed after Lucius ripped it from her the first time he raped her.

Still far too fragile to explain why she needed the dress to be gone from her life and knowing that she would never be able to get rid of it without said explanation, Hermione had hidden it, still in its box, at the back of the wardrobe where it had languished until Molly packed it with her other stuff when she moved out of the Burrow after leaving Hogwarts.

Hermione had tried to leave it behind but somehow, like the proverbial bad penny, the bloody thing kept turning up. Eventually, she had placed it at the back of her wardrobe, determined to forget it was there until she was better able to deal with it and the emotions the robe provoked within her weren’t so raw.

That the sight of it after all these years still affected her so badly was worrying, but worse still it had once again reminded her of a time she had been trying so hard to forget.

Lucius was a changed man, Hermione knew that, and she knew too that he bitterly regretted what he had done. But the fact was that it had still happened, and however much she tried to forgive and forget, even the stupidest thing — like that bloody robe — could send her spiralling off-track again. How were they ever supposed to move past this? Or were they supposed to get past it?

‘Are you okay, Mum?’ Sophie’s voice was tentative as she crept back into her mother’s bedroom. She was worried because she could hear Hermione crying and knew she had caused it.

Hermione got up from the chair and moved towards the bed to grab a tissue from a box on the nightstand. She wiped her eyes and blew her nose loudly.

‘Sophie, I’m sorry I shouted at you,’ she said miserably, trying to stop the tears from welling again.

Sophie came over to her and wrapped her arms around her. ‘No, I’m sorry, Mum. I didn’t mean to upset you. I know I was pushing you a bit but I just wanted everything to be perfect for your date with Dad. I really want this to work out for the two of you.’

Hermione hugged her daughter. ‘It wasn’t you, it was the dress,’ she explained. ‘I should have got rid of it a long time ago, but to be honest I’d forgotten it was there. It was just a bit of a shock to see it again after so long.’

It was clear Sophie wanted to ask about the dress but didn’t dare for fear of upsetting her mother again. Hermione knew that if she wanted any chance of her date with Lucius to go well she needed to forget all about it again, at least for the afternoon.

‘I don’t want to talk about it today but I will explain to you about it after the date, I promise,’ she told Sophie. ‘In the meantime, I still need to find something to wear if you really don’t think the jumper and trousers are going to be suitable. Perhaps you can pick something else for me?’ She released Sophie and gave her a weak smile. ‘I promise I won’t shout at you again, Soph. There isn’t anything else in there that I wouldn’t be happy to put on if you think it’s right for the date.’

Sophie went back to the wardrobe, once again searching for the perfect outfit. Eventually, she pulled out a cornflower blue robe.

‘What about this?’ she asked. ‘It’s your favourite colour, it’s a really pretty one, and it’s smart enough to take you from day to evening with a nice scarf and a jacket over the top.’

‘We’re only going for tea,’ Hermione reminded her.

Sophie smiled mischievously. ‘At the moment, maybe, but once I’ve finished getting you ready Dad’s never going to want to let you go.’

She laid the dress out on the bed, returning to the wardrobe to find the accessories to go with it.

‘You need to make sure you wear nice underwear as well.’   

‘As I said before, we’re going out for tea,’ Hermione replied.

‘We need to get your makeup done. We lost a bit of time,’ Sophie said. She was back by the chair Hermione had been sitting in earlier. ‘You’re going to look beautiful by the time I’ve finished with you.’

‘I’m not sure if I should be taking that as a compliment or not,’ Hermione grumbled as she sat back down. ‘Are you saying I’m ugly?’

‘No, I’m saying that you’re pretty, but with makeup you’re going to be stunning — irresistible, even.’

Hermione closed her eyes and tried to relax and not worry about what Sophie was about to do to her, trying to force the negativity and anxiety from her body a little bit at a time. It was actually quite pleasant getting her hair and makeup done by someone else even if it wasn’t in the style she normally went for. She could get used to it.

‘Finished,’ Sophie eventually announced, sounding pleased. She stepped back to allow Hermione to stand up and turn to look in the mirror.

Hermione gaped at the sight of herself. She looked so different — and her daughter had been right, she did look stunning. She was wearing more makeup than she probably put on in a year normally, but although it was obvious she was wearing it, it didn’t seem overdone or caked on as she had expected it to.

‘Can you see why the eyebrows are so important now?’ Sophie asked smugly as she stood behind Hermione, watching her reaction. ‘They frame the whole face. You look really beautiful, Mum.’

‘Thank you,’ Hermione said sincerely. She pulled Sophie to her and hugged her tightly.

‘Don’t ruin the makeup,’ Sophie warned as she pulled away from her.

While Hermione continued to stare at herself in the mirror, Sophie moved across to the chest of drawers where her mother kept her underwear. She opened several drawers and inspected the items within and at last pulled out a matching set that she eventually discovered in the fourth drawer down.

‘You really need to get some new underwear, Mum. The stuff you wear is rank.’

‘It’s practical and comfortable, unlike the set you’ve just chosen,’ Hermione told her. ‘You wait until you get older. You’ll be swapping the pretty but uncomfortable bras for the comfort option.’

Sophie wrinkled her nose. ‘You’ve got to be kidding. I’m never wearing anything like _this_.’ She lifted up a greying and saggy bra that was nestled in the top drawer. ‘Have you been boiling it? It’s almost grey!’

‘Leave my underwear alone, please,’ Hermione said. She turned away from the mirror to look at the outfit Sophie had assembled for her. ‘I’m not sure about those shoes, they’re a bit high.’

‘If you can’t walk in them properly, hold onto Dad. He’ll help you,’ Sophie said with a grin.

‘Thank you for your help. I think I can take it from here,’ Hermione told her.

‘I’ll see you downstairs,’ Sophie said happily, and waving, she left the room, leaving all her makeup and everything behind her. Hermione realised there was no point in calling her back.

By the time she finished dressing and looked at herself in the mirror she felt like a bit of a fraud. She didn’t look anything like her normal self; she looked like a Malfoy again. Part of her wanted to take it all off and start again, to dress in the clothes she had originally decided on without all the makeup and the fancy hair, but she knew how disappointed Sophie would be if she did that, and the last thing she ever wanted to do was to upset her daughter.

As Hermione had told Sophie earlier, she was pretty certain it would make little difference to Lucius what she wore — he just wanted to be with her and would accept her any way that made her feel comfortable. But the outfit showed that she was making an effort, trying to elevate the afternoon from being just another one spent in Lucius’ company to being the date he had been so keen to turn it into.

This was the first time in the nine months since Lucius had been released from Azkaban that they were going to be alone together and Hermione was a little surprised at how nervous she felt about it. It was almost as if she was a teenager again, the same butterflies in her stomach now as had been there while she got ready for the Yule Ball when she had been the partner of the Durmstrang Triwizard Champion and Bulgarian Quidditch ace, Viktor Krum. She looked in the mirror one last time. Her outfit was over the top in her opinion but it would give her the confidence she was lacking.

And Sophie was right — her new eyebrows were wicked.  

 

 

* * *

 

 

Lucius’ face lit up when he saw Hermione coming towards him through the lobby of the Black Dragon Hotel. He had arrived quite early, finding himself strangely nervous and wondering whether she was actually going to turn up or was still too scared to be alone with him.

Sophie was on his side, he knew, desperate to have a complete and normal family at last, and with her being home from Hogwarts for the Easter holidays he fully expected his daughter to put a subtle or maybe not-so-subtle pressure on her mother to attend.

From what he could see of the beautiful woman who had just entered the reception area, looking slightly self-conscious as she tugged nervously on the sleeve of her jacket, Sophie had done a considerable amount more than just push.

He stood up, his smile widening as Hermione reached him.

‘Wow . . . Hermione . . . you look stunning!’

Hermione looked almost embarrassed at the compliment for a moment but then she smiled shyly.

‘You’ve got Sophie to thank for this. She told me I had to make an effort to look good as it was a date. She wouldn’t accept me going out looking like I normally do.’

‘I’m just pleased you’re here,’ Lucius admitted as he took her hand and kissed it before leading her to the lounge where tea was being served.

They were soon sitting in large black leather armchairs, each with a bright cushion, either side of a small table that bore a pristine white tablecloth edged with lace. A tall, thin clear glass vase containing a single large pink gerbera took pride of place in the middle.

The table was set with two small white bone china plates bearing a thin silver line with the black dragon crest around the lip and two matching cups and saucers. Crisp white napkins that had been intricately modelled into what Hermione assumed were supposed to be small dragons rested atop each plate, and highly polished silver cutlery was set next to them.

Hermione smiled, enjoying the sight of the tasteful décor, and thanked the waitress as she gave them each a menu to peruse after seating them.

Lucius studied Hermione again. ‘Sophie has really gone to town on you, hasn’t she?’ he said with a grin. ‘I quite like it, but then I love you however you look, Hermione. You’re beautiful with or without makeup.’

Hermione really did blush that time and buried her face in the menu, studying the lists of sandwiches and cakes that were going to be served and trying to decide which of the fantastic-sounding teas she wanted to try.

Although she was still feeling slightly anxious and that bloody dress was still in her mind, pointing her in directions she didn’t want to go, the expensive and elegant atmosphere of the hotel lounge was doing a lot to help her take her mind off the past.

She glanced over the top of the menu to look at Lucius. He was as flawlessly and expensively dressed as she had expected him to be, every bit as handsome as he had always been. He never changed, though. Even when she had visited him in Azkaban he had always made the effort to dress up, to keep up the Malfoy image that was so important to the whole family.   

‘What are you going to have?’ Lucius asked mildly after he too had studied the menu for a few minutes.

It hadn’t taken him long to realise that Hermione wasn’t comfortable talking about her new look and he didn’t want to exacerbate her anxiety. The idea was to have a nice afternoon together, one in which she wanted to participate and was happy to be alone in his company, where he could start to prove to her that he could be trusted, that he was no longer the insane abuser she had been so scared of for so many years.

‘They all sound really interesting,’ Hermione admitted. ‘I can’t decide whether to go for one of the classic black teas or try something different for once.’

‘I don’t think you have to stick with the same one throughout the meal. I’m going to start with the Formosa Oolong, and then I’m thinking about a green tea, maybe the Jasmine Pearls although the Chocolate Chai is definitely on my radar as well.’

‘I’m going to start with a white tea — the one with apricots,’ Hermione decided.        

Lucius attracted the attention of the waitress and placed their order.

Ten minutes later a silver and white bone china stand containing freshly cut sandwiches had been placed on the table, the contents having been described by the waitress, along with two white teapots, a small pot of milk and a sugar bowl containing roughly hewn lumps of sugar in both white and brown.

‘This all looks lovely,’ Hermione said. ‘Thank you for inviting me, Lucius.’

‘Thank you for coming,’ Lucius responded pleasantly. He pulled the lid off his teapot and stirred the contents briefly before pouring himself a cup.

Hermione took a couple of the sandwiches, examining them before she put them on her plate. Somewhat reluctantly she shook out the napkin dragon and placed it on her lap.

‘Actually, I nearly didn’t come,’ she admitted. Lucius stared at her, looking surprised. ‘Something happened that threw me completely off-balance and I had a bit of a moment,’ she explained. ‘Fortunately, Sophie was there to get me back on track, and there was no way she was going to let me back out of this afternoon.’

‘Do you want to tell me about it?’ Lucius asked gently after a moment’s pause, hoping she felt comfortable enough to open up to him.

Hermione considered whether or not to explain. She had thought she needed to bury the past, but that hadn’t worked too well for her up to now. Maybe, if she finally talked to Lucius about it, got him to understand how she felt, that would work better than trying to pretend it had never happened. It was a risk, especially in a place as open and public as this, but then there was nowhere else they could go where she would feel any safer.

‘It was to do with the robe Sophie originally chose for me,’ she said.

Hermione realised her hands were shaking as she poured her tea and hoped Lucius, who was watching her carefully again, didn’t notice.

‘What was wrong with it?’ Lucius asked.

Hermione took a deep breath and closed her eyes for a second before opening them and looking directly at Lucius. ‘It was pale green,’ she said quietly, then took a sip of her tea.

Lucius frowned, not understanding. ‘Do you not like the colour green?’

Hermione stared at him, the hurt his unthinking words had caused written all over her face. She shook her head in disbelief. He didn’t even remember. It was something that was such a painful trigger for her and Lucius obviously didn’t even remember it. The dress had just been in the way. Why would he remember what colour it was?

Lucius realised immediately that he had said something wrong but wasn’t sure what he could do to rectify his mistake. He tried to wrack his brain, trawling back through the murk and mania for some sign of why a green dress was important, but he was getting nothing.

He had been so far gone between the madness and the drinking that he could remember hardly anything of his time at Malfoy Manor with Hermione — except for the really bad stuff. He could remember that without any problem, although he wished to Merlin he couldn’t.

Hermione’s fingers plucked at the napkin, twisting it as she tried to calm herself, determined not to cry. Why had she ever thought Lucius would remember something like that? But now the bottle was open and the genie was escaping and she had no choice but to continue and explain why the dress held such bad memories for her.

‘I was wearing pale green the first time you—’ Hermione’s voice already a low whisper that Lucius had to strain to catch faltered, unable to continue.

Lucius gaped at her in horrified silence as he realised what she was saying. He prodded his memory again and then he remembered it, the pretty pale green robe that had been so badly damaged the house-elves hadn’t been able to repair it.

‘Oh gods, Hermione. I am so sorry,’ he said quietly, his hand reaching out across the table to try to take hers, both to comfort and to stop the frantic twisting. He accidentally caught the sugar bowl and knocked it over, giving up on holding Hermione’s hand as he picked up the fallen sugar lumps and returned them to the bowl.

‘I don’t know why I thought you’d remember,’ Hermione said unhappily.

‘It was a pretty dress,’ Lucius said, his own voice as quiet as Hermione’s now. ‘You looked gorgeous in it, but then again — then just as now — I just thought you were beautiful, I didn’t really take much notice of the clothes you were wearing. I’m sorry.’

‘I know it was such a stupid thing but it affected me so badly,’ Hermione said, sounding almost embarrassed now.

Lucius shook his head. ‘Not stupid at all. It’s no surprise that you would be affected by something like that. But I don’t understand why you have a pale green robe when it would bring back such awful memories for you.’

‘The Ministry of Magic gave it to me along with a whole load of other stuff after I was rescued from Malfoy Manor,’ Hermione explained. ‘I couldn’t deal with it at the time but I couldn’t get rid of it, either. It was such an expensive robe that there would have been questions asked that I wasn’t ready to answer at the time. I hid it at the back of the cupboard intending to deal with it when I was less emotional, but somehow I managed to put it out of my mind and completely forgot it was there — until Sophie found it and insisted I wear it this afternoon.’

‘I can imagine how traumatic that must have been,’ Lucius said sympathetically. He finally managed to take hold of her hand without any other accidents happening, and squeezed it gently.

‘I really shouted at her,’ Hermione admitted ruefully. She sighed. ‘I did apologise but I’m going to have to explain to her properly once I get home because she couldn’t comprehend why I was so upset — irrational, as I said.’

‘We’ve never really talked properly about that time, have we?’ Lucius said tentatively. ‘Perhaps we shouldn’t ignore it and try to pretend it never happened. Maybe we should acknowledge and talk about it, to get the difficult and painful stuff out of the way — clear it all out so we can start afresh without fear that the past will keep coming back to haunt us.’

Hermione sighed again. ‘I think you’re right, but not this afternoon, Lucius. One revelation has been more than enough and I really don’t want to ruin our date.’

‘As always, I am happy to be guided by you,’ Lucius told her sincerely.

There was an uncomfortable silence for a few minutes as the two of them drank their tea, neither really knowing what to say next. It was broken by the waitress returning to ask if they wanted more tea and whether they required more sandwiches or were ready to move onto the scones.

A brief discussion about which way to go was enough to dispel the awkwardness that had been brewing between them and conversation then moved on to more conventional and far safer topics. By the time they ordered their third pot of tea, the hotel’s signature blend for Lucius and a sweet and spicy Assam for Hermione, they were both feeling far more relaxed.

Hermione realised that despite the initial pain, their discussion about the dress, however brief, had, amazingly, released some of the ever-present tension that was wound up like a tight spring deep inside her. There was more locked away in there, so much more, but perhaps the possibility existed that they could get past this if they discussed it rather than trying to ignore it. Perhaps in the right circumstances talking did work after all.

‘I’ve had a nice afternoon,’ she admitted sincerely. ‘This place is every bit as good as people said it is. Thank you for bringing me.’

Lucius smiled. ‘I’m glad you enjoyed it, Hermione. It is a lovely place. What have you got planned for the rest of the afternoon?’

Hermione shrugged, ‘Nothing. I didn’t really think any further than tea.’

She thought about Sophie’s comment about her outfit going from day to evening and her heart beat slightly faster at the thought that Lucius might be about to invite her to do something else that would take them towards dinner, and maybe even beyond.

If she was being sensible, Hermione knew she should bail out of the date now and go home so she could apologise to Sophie again; should leave while she was still enjoying Lucius’ company and call it a win, knowing she would happily go on another date with him should he ask her in the future. But the thought of spending a little longer with him appealed far more than she wanted to admit.

‘I was thinking that while we were in town we could go house shopping if you’ve got nothing better to do,’ Lucius suggested casually.

‘House shopping,’ Hermione said, sounding surprised. ‘Why do you want to go house shopping?’

Lucius shrugged. ‘I need to find somewhere to live, and I would very much appreciate your help in finding the perfect property. I thought we could head towards Diagon Alley and take a look at the estate agents’ to see whether they have anything suitable.’

‘But why do you need to find somewhere to live? You already have Malfoy Manor,’ Hermione pointed out.

‘That’s _why_ I need to find somewhere else to live,’ Lucius said. ‘Let’s face it, Hermione, the place doesn’t exactly hold the happiest memories for any of us, does it? It’s huge and unwelcoming and has such bad memories, particularly from the recent past. Why would I want to continue living there when I can get something new — somewhere better memories can be made?’

‘But Malfoy Manor has been in your family for generations,’ Hermione said.

Lucius sounded bitter as he replied, ‘Yes, we’ve all lived there since the fifteenth century, so we could do with a change.’ He squeezed her hand, which he had taken hold of once more. ‘Be honest: are you ever going to come to the manor again?’

Hermione shook her head automatically, a feeling like ice water running through her veins at the thought of having to set foot in that hateful prison ever again.

‘Of course you won’t, and I don’t blame you for one minute,’ Lucius continued. ‘But my life is with you, Hermione. I honestly believe that and I think eventually I can convince you of it too. But there’s no point in me staying in a place that I now really despise and that everyone I love hates.

‘Draco wouldn’t come back there either, so what’s the point of me keeping it? Far better that I should find somewhere new to put down roots and get rid of that old pile. I can think of a few people who would be more than happy to take it off my hands.’

‘Normally I would be happy to come with you,’ Hermione said. ‘But unfortunately Sophie made me wear these shoes that look lovely but I can hardly walk in and I don’t think I’ll be able to survive the cobblestones of Diagon Alley, even if I hold onto you all the way.’ She lifted her leg to show said shoes.

Lucius grinned louchely. ‘They really are very sexy shoes, but you’re right, completely unsuitable for shopping. I, therefore, suggest that we stop at the shoe shop and get you something more suitable for walking in. You can put those back on again when we go for dinner.’

‘Dinner. This date seems becoming extremely extended,’ Hermione said, an expression of amusement on her face.

‘Now I’ve finally got you to myself I really don’t want to let you go,’ Lucius admitted. ‘So what do you say? Some light shopping followed by dinner — I know a rather nice little place not far from Diagon Alley so you won’t have to walk too far in those wonderful heels.’

Hermione smiled and nodded her agreement. ‘Why not? Shopping and dinner. It sounds fun.’

‘Brilliant!’ Lucius looked ecstatic at her response. ‘Let me just pay the bill and we can go. Unless you want anything else before we leave?’

‘Not if we’re going to be having dinner later,’ Hermione said. ‘I do need the loo, though, after all that tea. I’m going to hobble that way. Meet me outside there when you’re finished.’

‘I’m really looking forward to this,’ Lucius told her, squeezing her hand one last time before releasing it.

‘So am I,’ Hermione admitted.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Hermione looked at the sleeping man lying next to her in the bed. Lucius was breathing quietly, small whispers of air escaping his slightly parted lips as he dreamt, although she had no idea of what. He looked peaceful and happy, though, and she realised she was pleased that he was so content. She felt quite comfortable lying here in his arms, warm and sleepy and enjoying hearing the early morning noises of Diagon Alley outside the window.

The place never seemed to sleep, and even at this time of the morning there were the sounds of the final stragglers making their way home from a drunken night out, the cheerful cleaners busy at their work clearing the detritus of the day, and even a few of the market stall holders, already arriving ready to set up their wares in order to catch the early risers and those doing the walk of shame.

She would be one of the latter when she finally arrived home after spending all night out, having to face Sophie’s no doubt smirking face. Hermione wasn’t certain whether her daughter and Lucius had colluded in what had happened, the extension of their date far beyond the afternoon tea she had been expecting, but it wouldn’t stop Sophie taking full credit for it.

Hermione was now glad she had taken Sophie’s advice and worn the decent underwear rather than the comfortable but ugly stuff she usually wore. She knew Lucius wouldn’t have cared either way what she wore, he just wanted to get her naked — although he had thoughtfully offered to buy her a nightdress while they were shopping in Diagon Alley; her first indication of where his thoughts were running before they even made it to dinner.

She had turned him down, telling him she wouldn’t need it, although at the time she meant because she intended to go home well before a nightdress would be required. When she had told him the second time it was because she wanted nothing to come between the two of them while they were making love.

The sex had been every bit as magnificent as it had always been between them, maybe even better as there were no guards outside the door or any need to hold back in their desire for each other. It had come as some surprise to Hermione that it had been almost four years since they had last been physical; her last visit to Lucius in Azkaban had been just after he was turned down for parole when his twentieth anniversary in the prison came due.

Not once during the nine months since he had been released had Lucius made any attempt to touch her, understanding after her breakdown on the day he was released that she wasn’t ready for anything like that between them.

Instead, he had taken it slowly, spending time with her only when other people were around to chaperone, proving step by slow step that his madness had been cured and the cruel and obsessive man who had kept her bent to his will for so long had been replaced by a warm and caring lover who wanted nothing more than to protect and cherish her and the family they had created together.

His desire to move from Malfoy Manor was part of this although it had surprised her at first. But then Hermione realised that the place must hold even more terrible memories for him than it did for her — Lucius had done more than just abuse her during his time as a Death Eater.

She knew he hadn’t returned to the house since leaving prison. Instead, he had been staying with Draco and reconnecting with his family, eager to make up for lost time, and from what he had told her this afternoon he was reluctant to have to return there. She was also aware he had even visited Narcissa in hospital, apologising to her unreservedly for his appalling behaviour towards her during his madness.

Hermione had no idea how things were going to progress between her and Lucius in the future but she was feeling quite hopeful. They would need to talk about their shared past properly and might even need to get professional counselling to help them through it, but if each layer being stripped away released the tension in the same way that talking about the green dress had done earlier, then there was nothing to stop them from ending up exactly where Lucius and Sophie wanted them to — where Hermione wanted them to end up too, if she was honest.

The idea of being a real family, the family that Sophie had yearned for since she was a small child, seemed strange but also wonderful, scary but exciting. Hermione had been through so much, had survived so much, and for once it looked like something good was going to happen. She had battled so hard and had overcome so many terrible situations to get where she was now. She felt she deserved to be happy, and she was finally beginning to believe that Lucius was the one who could make her happy.

She snuggled closer to him, intending to attempt to sleep when Lucius opened his eyes and smiled at her.

‘Having trouble sleeping?’ he asked, the smile fading as a look of concern replaced it.

Hermione smiled at him. ‘Just enjoying lying here all warm and snuggly and listening to the sounds of the outside world going on around us.’

Lucius pulled her closer, his lips finding hers gently. ‘I love you, Hermione.’

‘I know you do,’ Hermione said. She kissed him in return.

‘Do you need to go to sleep right at this moment?’ Lucius asked insouciantly.

Hermione shook her head. ‘Nope.’

‘Good, because I really want to make love to you again,’ Lucius said, his lips already working their way down her throat, his fingers running gently over her body.

‘I approve of that,’ Hermione told him as she reached out to touch him in return.   


	18. PART FOUR - CHAPTER THREE

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: So, we’ve finally made it to the last chapter of the story. To all those who have stuck with it and followed poor Hermione through some terrible and not-so-terrible times, thank you so much for coming back again and again. I really appreciate your support. And an extra special thank you goes to all those who have commented or left kudos – I hope the ending doesn’t disappoint you. I’d like to say thank you, too, to my beta, Mamacita. I’m lucky to have her as a friend and even luckier that she agreed to do my editing as she really improves my punctuation. Until we meet again, enjoy the final chapter of Family. Dx

 

‘Morning, ladies.’

Hermione waved at a few other parents she recognised as she joined Ginny, Lavender and Padma where they were grouped on the station platform. Neither their husbands nor children were anywhere to be seen.

‘Morning, Hermione. How’s it going?’

Hermione rolled her eyes. ‘Hattie was so excited last night that she made herself sick. I don’t think she slept a wink — and neither did we. I’m absolutely knackered this morning.’

‘I don’t think we need to know about your sex life,’ Ginny said with a grin, nudging her.

‘There was no sex involved,’ Hermione assured her dourly. ‘That’s the best thing about Hattie going to Hogwarts — Lucius and I will get some privacy at last.’

‘Where is he, anyway?’ Ginny asked, looking around.

‘Off with the other men, lugging Hattie’s luggage onto the train, of course,’ Hermione replied smugly. ‘I told him he had to make himself useful if he was coming to the station. I assume that’s where your lot are?’

Lavender nodded. ‘They tend to stand elsewhere because they reckon we gossip too much, but have you heard them once they get going — they’re at least as bad if not worse. Still, at least it’s the last time for us, eh, Ginny? This time next year we’ll be able to sit back and relax with a cuppa, not worried about missing uniforms or whether we managed to get everything on the blasted school list.’

‘No, you’ll just be worrying about getting Fred and Lily to university instead,’ Hermione reminded them.

‘That’s got to be less stressful, though, surely?’ Lavender said. ‘I mean, they’ll be old enough to sort themselves out by then.’

‘You would think that, but sadly—’ Hermione shook her head woefully.

‘You lucky things,’ Padma said, sounding jealous. ‘I’ve still got a couple of years to go yet. I’ll be so glad when Suki finally finishes and we don’t have to do this any longer.’

‘I have to admit it’s been a bit of a shock to the system coming back and doing this again,’ Hermione told them. ‘I’d forgotten what a palaver it all is in the three years since Sophie left, and the idea of having to keep doing it for another seven years is a bit daunting.’

‘At least you’re not going to have to _start_ doing it again in a decade,’ Padma said, a wicked grin appearing on her face.

‘Oh gods, yes. Have you heard? Parvati’s just found out she’s pregnant,’ Lavender said gleefully.

‘Really? After all this time? I assume it wasn’t planned?’ Hermione asked, wrinkling her nose.

Padma chuckled as she shook her head. ‘I don’t know who was more surprised, her or Dean. I think he’s regretting that he didn’t go for the snip when Seamus decided to do it. We weren’t taking any chances. Suki coming along was more than enough for us.’

‘Can you imagine being pregnant again now?’ Lavender asked, sounding horrified. ‘I can’t even begin to think about how uncomfortable it would be. It was bad enough when we were young and nimble, now I already feel like a whale and that’s without baby weight.’

‘Urgh, the idea’s unbearable,’ Ginny agreed. ‘Just think of all the sleepless nights and the nappies and the bottles and . . . oh, just yuck.’

‘For Merlin’s sake, don’t mention it to Lucius or it’ll give him ideas,’ Hermione said with a grimace. ‘I could just see him thinking that another baby would be the perfect thing to seal our union.’

‘What is happening with you two? Are you getting married or anything?’ Padma asked interestedly.

‘Not at the moment. We’re just sorting out our living arrangements, that’s been more than stressful enough for both of us. Lucius loves living out in the country where it’s nice and quiet,’ Hermione said as she rolled her eyes. ‘We tried it, but I found it a bit boring because I’m really not a country girl and I wanted to be somewhere bit more central and in a town.

‘So then he suggested we move to Hogsmeade so we could be closer to Hattie, but I thought that was a terrible idea — for Hattie, particularly. How’s she supposed to integrate at school properly when her home is ten minutes down the road? Anyway, so now we’ve got the house in Berkshire which is okay, but still a bit too rural for me although I have to admit I do love the swimming pool.

‘I’m trying to convince Lucius to look at this townhouse I really like the look of which is in central London not far from Diagon Alley. I’m really hoping we’ll end up getting both of them and splitting our time between the two.’

‘What about Malfoy Manor? What’s happening about that?’ Padma asked.

‘Lucius sold it,’ Hermione said, sounding satisfied. ‘You’ll never guess who bought it. Do you remember that Zacharias Smith who used to be in the D.A.?’

‘Hufflepuff bloke who was a complete twat?’ Ginny asked, remembering.

Hermione nodded. ‘That’s the one. He’s bought it and is now proclaiming it as his family’s ancestral home — as if people won’t remember who it belonged to originally. He’s passing himself off as a direct descendant of Helga Hufflepuff. I don’t know if that’s true or not.’

‘Better him than you,’ Ginny said quietly.

‘You’re right there although there was never any chance of any of us going back there. Even Lucius wouldn’t set foot in the place. Watch out, the boys are back.’

Hermione hugged and said hullo to both Harry and Ron as they, Seamus and Lucius joined them.

‘How’s Sophie doing now?’ Harry asked.

‘She’s good. She’s really enjoying her course. She’s getting to the important part now where she has to go out and do work experience, which came as a bit of a shock to her, but she’s also got the first of her exams coming up in January so there’s a lot of work to do. It’s stressing her out a bit, I think. She’ll be all right, though. How’s James doing, has he found another girlfriend yet?’

Harry shook his head. ‘I don’t think he’s interested. He just seems to work all the time. He’s trying to get promotion at the moment. I keep telling him to slow down a bit and enjoy his life, but he won’t listen to me. Has Sophie got a boyfriend?’

Hermione considered her response for a moment. ‘I don’t think there’s anyone too important but there are a couple of lads she knocks around with. I’m not quite sure what their status is. I think if anything she’s a bit too earnest about studying, which is saying something coming from me. I don’t know how we managed to raise these middle-aged children, Harry. They are far too serious for their own good.’

‘I don’t think their relationship ending at the time it did helped much,’ Harry pointed out.

‘Well, I think it was a good thing,’ Ginny cut in. ‘They were far too young to be so completely wrapped up in each other. They need to go off and do things with other people and get a bit of experience before they get back together again . . . which I’m pretty sure they will, eventually.’ 

‘I agree,’ Hermione said. ‘The fact that they had only ever been out with each other always bothered me, too. I don’t like seeing either of them unhappy, though.’

‘As Ginny said, they’ll sort themselves out eventually, no doubt,’ Harry said dryly. ‘In the meantime, they’re both driven to become successful in their chosen fields.’

‘How’s Albus getting on? Have you heard from him? Draco was saying something about them being in Thailand?’

Harry rolled his eyes and shook his head in exasperation. ‘It’s like chalk and cheese with James and Albus. On one hand, you’ve got the boy who used to be the joker of the pack turning into Percy, on the other, you’ve got the moodiest boy in school suddenly becoming the life and soul of the party. We got a postcard from him about three weeks ago. They were in Singapore and had just decided to head off to India. Merlin only knows when they’re coming back. It looks like the gap year has just been extended.’

‘I’m surprised they’ve lasted as a couple as long as they have,’ Hermione said honestly. ‘Yet again, they’ve only ever been in love with each other. You would have thought all this travel would make them start to see each other differently. That sort of thing does tend to bring out people’s worst traits.’

‘They’ve had a couple of arguments but fortunately nothing serious so far,’ Ginny said. ‘My worst fear is that they’ll split up and go off in different directions and we’ll never hear from either of them again. It’s so dangerous out there, especially in the Muggle world. There seem to be lots of countries that aren’t very tolerant of gay people. I get a bit worried about it, to be honest.’

Harry wrapped his arm around his wife and gave her a hug.

‘Al and Scorpius are both sensible boys if a little high-spirited. They’ll be fine. I’m not quite sure what they’re doing for money, though.’

‘Draco sent them some. Scorpius contacted him a few weeks ago because they were broke,’ Lucius said. ‘They had been doing some casual work in a couple of bars in Phuket, but when they decided to go sightseeing in Singapore they lost their jobs. He suggested they might want to come home for a while but it seems they still want to go to Australia and New Zealand before they come back to the UK. I got the impression that it’ll be another six to nine months at least before we see them again, and then I don’t think they’ll be stopping long. They’re talking about doing the Americas next.’

‘That explains why Al hasn’t asked us for any money,’ Harry said, frowning. ‘Tell Draco that next time Scorpius asks we’ll pay.’

Lucius looked unconcerned. ‘I wouldn’t worry about it. We’ve got plenty of money, and they’re not asking for a lot.’

‘It’s not the money, it’s the principle of the thing,’ Harry retorted stiffly.

‘Sorry, didn’t mean to ruffle your feathers,’ Lucius told him soothingly. ‘I’ll let Draco know and he can contact you if it happens again.’

‘How is Draco now?’ Lavender asked.

‘He needs a girlfriend,’ Hermione said honestly. ‘It’s been almost six years since Astoria died and he really needs to move on. He doesn’t seem to be interested in getting back out there, though.’

‘We should fix him up with someone. It’s a shame for him to be on his own for so long, especially when he’s such a gorgeous-looking bloke,’ Lavender said, ignoring the scowl Ron gave her at her comment.

‘Easier said than done when we don’t have anyone to fix him up with,’ Ginny pointed out.

‘Or, at least, anyone he might actually be interested in,’ Hermione added. ‘Pansy Parkinson’s still sniffing around but I’ll be damned if she’s getting her claws anywhere near him — not that he would consider it, thank Merlin.’

‘What about Susan Bones?’ Lavender asked musingly. ‘She split up with her husband a couple of years ago and she’s a really nice girl. She’d suit him down to the ground, I reckon.’

Hermione pondered the suggestion for a moment. ‘Hmmm, maybe. She is nice but I wonder if she’s too easy-going for Draco. He can be quite intense when he’s in the mood—’

‘He’s a moody bugger, you mean,’ Ginny added helpfully, although she was grinning as she said it.

‘The problem is that he’s still so in love with Astoria he’s not interested in anyone else. That’s why he’s moody, he’s still grieving for her.’ Hermione turned to Lucius. ‘We could invite Susan to our next party, though. What do you think, Lucius?’

‘If you want to, darling. I agree it’s a shame that Draco’s still alone this long after Astoria’s death. Then again, he’s had to cope with Narcissa’s passing, too, which will have raked it all up again. There’s no harm in trying, though.’

‘We were thinking about having a bit of a do for Lav’s birthday next month,’ Ron said. ‘We could invite her to that, couldn’t we?’

‘And there’s Dean and Parvati’s twentieth wedding anniversary party coming up,’ Seamus added.

Ginny laughed. ‘If we keep throwing them together perhaps they might take an interest in each other eventually.’

‘Getting him to go out would be a start,’ Hermione said. ‘I don’t think he’s been out anywhere other than family engagements since Scorpius left school.’

The whistle on the train sounded and there was a flurry of activity as children scrambled to get aboard and parents tried to say farewell to them, handing over cages containing beloved pets and last minute packages of sweets or sandwiches.

The friends began to disperse, all searching for their children, wanting to say goodbye and make sure they got on board the train. Hermione looked around and spotted Hattie with her best friend Lucy. They were deep in conversation and seemed not to have noticed the time or the whistle.

‘Time to go, Hattie, Lucy,’ she told the two girls as Lucy’s mother, Julie, hurried towards them down the platform looking rather flustered. ‘I was just going to get them on the train,’ she explained.

‘I’ve just got Lucy’s trunk on there. Those things are so heavy,’ Julie said sounding out of breath. 

‘That’s why I brought Lucius along,’ Hermione smiled. ‘You should have said, I could have got him to put it on there for you.’

Julie shrugged. ‘It’s done now.’ She bent a little to hug her daughter. ‘You be a good girl now, Lucy.’

Hermione wrapped her arms around Hattie as the girl hugged her tightly.

‘Enjoy school, and don’t forget to let us know which House you get Sorted into.’

Hattie smiled as her mother released her but her previous excitement was now tempered by anxiety.

‘It’s going to be fine,’ Hermione assured her.

‘What if I don’t get Sorted into a House?’ Hattie asked worriedly. This was something that was obviously concerning her.

Hermione grinned. ‘Everyone gets Sorted into a House eventually. It might just take a few minutes for the Hat to decide where to put you. It took it nearly five minutes for me — but that’s not a record. Anyway, you can always give it a helping hand by telling it which House you want to go in.’

‘But I don’t know which one I want to be in,’ Hattie stammered.

‘Slytherin, obviously,’ Lucius said as he joined them. He opened his arms to Hattie, who hugged him just as tightly as she had hugged Hermione.

‘Ignore your father,’ Hermione said. ‘You’re honestly worrying unnecessarily, love. I thought you were excited to be going to Hogwarts.’

‘I am,’ Hattie said but she sounded unsure. The whistle blew again. ‘I need to get on the train. It’s about to go.’

She followed Lucy up the stairs and onto the train, turning to wave at her parents before she disappeared inside. Lucius put his arm around Hermione’s waist and pulled her back against him.

‘Are you okay?’ he asked gently, knowing Hermione was likely to be feeling emotional at the impending separation from her youngest daughter.

Hermione nodded, trying to ignore the tears that had suddenly sprung into her eyes and the sudden tug on her heart at the realisation that her daughter was no longer a little girl and she wasn’t going to see her again for over three long months. She remembered her own first day at Hogwarts and how small and scared she had felt although she had tried her hardest not to show it, instead coming over as brash and bossy.

She put her hand in her pocket and felt something hard.

‘Hang on a minute,’ she told Lucius and slid from his grasp, pushing her way towards the train.

‘Hattie!’

Hermione climbed the steps, still calling out for her daughter. She could hear the steam as the train whistled for the third and final time as the clock began to strike eleven o’clock. The Hogwarts Express was about to leave.

‘Hermione, what’s happening?’ Lucius asked in confusion, wondering what she was doing.

‘Hattie!’ Hermione called again as she saw her daughter heading into one of the compartments. The girl stopped and looked back in surprise.

‘I’ve got something for you,’ Hermione said, holding out her hand as Hattie returned to her.

Hattie took the small statue of the schoolgirl carrying a pile of books from her mother’s open hand.

She smiled. ‘Thank you,’ she whispered.

‘My parents gave it to me before my first journey to Hogwarts,’ Hermione said. ‘It’ll keep you company if you ever feel lonely or don’t know what you’re doing. Now go and have fun. We’ll see you at Christmas.’

She jumped off the train just as it began to move, Lucius catching her as she landed on the platform.

‘Are you mad? You nearly ended up going to Hogsmeade.’ He shook his head as he stared at her endearingly.

‘I needed to give Hattie something,’ Hermione replied. ‘It was important, and it will help her get over her panic about being away from home.’

‘The others are all going to get a bite to eat before going home. Do you want to join them?’ Lucius asked.

Hermione smiled. ‘That would be nice. We’re not going to have too many more of these. This time next year it’ll just be us, Padma and Seamus.’

‘I hear Padma’s sister is pregnant,’ Lucius said smoothly. ‘I was thinking—’

‘Don’t even think it,’ Hermione warned coolly.

‘But now that we’re finally settled,’ Lucius said.

‘I am not having another baby at this stage of my life, Lucius. We’ve only just got rid of Hattie. Let’s just make the most of being alone for a while, shall we? It won’t be long until both girls are back home and you’ll be begging for it just to be the two of us again.’

Lucius hugged her.

‘I love you, Hermione.’

‘I love you, too, Lucius, but I am not having a baby, so stop looking at me like that.’

‘Will you marry me?’ Lucius asked.

‘Nice timing on the proposal,’ Hermione retorted.

‘I’m serious. Will you marry me?’ Lucius asked again, ignoring Hermione’s snarky remark.

Hermione shook her head and sighed.

Lucius released her and got down on one knee. ‘Now will you marry me?’ he asked with a grin.

Hermione stared down at him in surprise.

‘Get up, you stupid idiot, you’re embarrassing us.’

‘Not until you agree to marry me,’ Lucius replied firmly. ‘I can stay here all day, you know . . . but I’d rather not.’

Hermione shook her head as she grinned at him.

‘Yes, I’ll marry you. Now get up.’

There was a round of applause at her words and Hermione looked round to see her friends and various other parents all watching them. She felt herself start to blush at the attention.

‘The knee of my trousers are dirty now. This platform’s filthy. Look, I think I’ve got some oil on it,’ Lucius complained as he brushed himself down.

Hermione bit her lip for a moment, trying to stop the smile that was threatening, knowing it would probably upset him. Lucius was so fastidious in his dress.

‘It’ll be fine, one of the house-elves will be able to sort it out,’ she told him soothingly.

‘You were serious about marrying me, weren’t you?’ Lucius asked as he wrapped his arms around her again.

‘I was,’ Hermione agreed.

‘Thank Merlin for that. For a moment I thought you were going to say no,’ he admitted.

‘Why would I do that when all I want is to be with you and our girls?’ Hermione asked.

Lucius smiled at her, then kissed her tenderly.

‘Are we going for something to eat?’ Ron asked loudly.

‘I think a celebration might be in order under the circumstances,’ Ginny suggested. ‘How about we go to that place just outside the station?’

Agreeing with the suggestion, the group all made their way, couple by couple, back through the barrier of Platform Nine and Three-Quarters and out into the Muggle world. As Hermione followed her friends out of the station, holding hands with Lucius as they walked, the others laughing and joking as they went, she considered how fortunate she was.

It was thanks to her wonderful friends that she was still here to be able to enjoy this late summer’s day and her unexpected engagement to Lucius, and she felt profoundly grateful for everything they had done for her over the years.

She and Lucius were still working through their shared history, finally discarding it to the four winds as they made their peace with each other, and Hermione knew that there was still some way to go before the process was completely over and there were still going to be bumps along the way. But they were getting there slowly, with the help of a counsellor and their shared desire to get it right; she could see a light at the end of the tunnel and the ground was finally completely solid beneath her feet.

There was no guarantee that she wouldn’t once again fall prey to the darkness that had overwhelmed her so many times in the past, but she now knew that whatever happened she had helping hands to keep her head above water and she would survive and thrive. 

Life was good and Hermione was finally ready to live it to the full.


End file.
